A beautiful wind seems to lead our quest in each country visited. Euphoric and joyful breath leads

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We reserve the chance of road has no name. This is an unexpected concert sensations, taste and color, whose powerful melody resonates within you. A deep echo you acknowledge suddenly, ala cart as the chorus of a song forgotten. The wind of the trip is a tornado, a hard drug, a great ecstasy. In the blink of an eye, it makes you embody the famous phrase of Saint Exupéry: "Make your life a dream and a dream a reality! "
A beautiful wind seems to lead our quest in each country visited. Euphoric and joyful breath leads the dance. Without foreseeing we find in Malaysia, in the charming ala cart town of Melaka, on Christmas Eve. It is fascinating to arrive on Christmas Day in a city steeped in history, pictorial beauty. The twilight hour approach stealthily. We find our house on the edge of the delightful river crossing bridges as Venice. We settle. We are exhausted. My dark fiancé in the arms of Morpheus. Excited, I'm going to take the temperature of places. The frenzy of the street seems to be because of me. I venture to chance, discover wonderful sensations that gives me the famous ala cart port, coveted for centuries. I learned that the city known since the fifteenth century, a considerable mixing of peoples. I walk in the alleys ala cart of the ancient heart of the city. The sun is a fire. The small colonial town vibrates in the hot air. The heat can not remember the Middle East. I walked along a large mosque. White minaret seems to burst the sky and draw her to him, the strength of the clouds. The call to prayer rises in the streets of white heat. The deep voice of the muezzin gives me chills. While listening, my steps lead me in a Chinese ala cart pagoda painted ala cart red wood. Two giant dragons in relief around the columns. A gentle and meditative music mingles strangely Muslim song that floods the street. This religious overlay as a montage inspires me terribly. It reflects a rich world with open borders, a beautiful symbol of unity between the ethnic groups of the earth. My heart swells with hope. Peace in the world. This thought flies me to tears. The pagoda is divinely dark, crossing sunlight. Fences carved wood decorated with gilded frescoes frame the altar. Shines a dark light. Red and gold fabrics cover the wood. The atmosphere is magnetic. A large basin in the center of the throne room. Incense burning. Spicy dance on scrolls painted ala cart wood. The vibrational frequency tells me. Moved my gaze is lost in the myriad colors of the decorations of the pagoda. I am alone. Custodian of the land opens a packet of sweets and offering a vacuum in a candy that he placed on the altar as a grandmother's cookie jar. My eyes glaze over a metal tray. Candles in the shape of lotus flowers, bright pink burn like dreams. I look up, let me be absorbed ala cart by the profusion of colors. I go out. I continue to appreciate the ride beautiful colonial buildings, art galleries, elegant Chinese houses thirties. Faces inspire me like the colors of happiness. A veiled Muslim woman and a silky turquoise fabric meets the gaze of an Indian, wearing a pink beaded tunic. They both pass, without knowing, to a Chinese shop masks dragons at the same time that two Japanese tourists in miniskirt, wandering as models, a paper umbrella in hand. This image gives me great emotion as an inner trance. The words slip through my fingers like sand. I would like to paint what I see.
My not lead me to a very ancient pagoda and a wonderful beauty. A flood of people like waves entering the sacred cave and deposits incense sticks in an odd number. All pray with clasped hands. Before the altar, a kneeling woman shaking a jar of wooden sticks topped with premonitory. Sound wood, like a musical instrument, breaks the silence of velvety red pagoda. The woman, animated by the power of hope, to keep pace