The morning call

The largest of the three. King-sized bed, white sheets, a wall of wooden shutters that opens onto a generous walk-in dressing room. Doors open onto the garden — left open at night, the room breathes with the trees. The bathroom is a room of its own, with twin pedestal sinks and a freestanding tub.

A queen bed under a four-poster, white netting falling around it. The glass doors open onto a small corner of garden — brick wall, frangipani, a wooden bench carved by hand. The morning light arrives filtered through leaves.

A queen bed, a smaller room. The bathroom is what makes it — half outside, the roof open to the sky. You shower under the leaves. From the sink, a piece of the sea slips through the frangipanis.