Tonight again, I’m restless.
It’s Saturday, and I feel a little lonely in my penthouse. I’d promised myself seven hours of sleep but try telling that to the merchant of sleep — no sleep is landing on my shore tonight.
After turning endlessly in bed, I gave up. Slipped out. Took a shower. Moisturized. Slid into a pair of jeans and a simple top. Not my favourite part, but I tamed my mane, grabbed my Fendi backpack, and packed the essentials: laptop, tablet, phone, toiletry bag, journal, a book, and my comb. Socks on, keys in hand, I opened the shoe closet, slipped on my Onitsuka Mexico 66s, and headed out.
I slid into my Mercedes-Maybach S-Class Night Series and drove straight to The Night Owl Hotel.
It’s not a hotel per se — it’s a sanctuary. A place where night owls, lonely hearts, creative souls, and insomniacs meet. A concept born from the vision of a night owl guy who was tired of searching for somewhere safe, cozy, open, and smoke-free where he could sip something warm, feel connected, and just be.
That’s exactly what The Night Owl Hotel is.
Wine drinkers, mocktail lovers, chocolate sippers, chai enthusiasts… We gather here. The drinks are divine. The pastries, freshly baked. There are light dishes, hot soups, warm pies — it feels like home, elevated.
I parked underground and recognized a few familiar cars — the regulars. Bag on my shoulder, I took the lift up. The hotel sits by the beach, with a breathtaking terrace where you can lounge and wait for the sunset. It’s my favorite spot. The night air is crisp, but I came prepared with my Max Mara coat.
I placed my order: a tall caramel macchiato (hot) and a few finger sandwiches. I waved hello to a few people I know — fellow night dwellers — and stepped outside.
The sea stretched endlessly before me, the wind brushed against my face.
I felt alive.
While the world sleeps, this world is awake — vibrant and quiet all at once. People click on keyboards, whisper to one another, or simply sit in silence, breathing in the night. I found my usual corner, set up my laptop, mouse, journal, book, pens. I was ready.
I looked around and thought — this is genius. A place like this? I’ve dreamed about it my entire life. Someone else must have dreamed it too — and then made it real.
We are so different here, yet so alike.
We crave connection but on our terms.
We find energy in the night, peace in quiet company, and beauty in shared solitude.
The sky sparkles with stars. With minimal light, we see the night in all its glory, and we hear the ocean whisper. I can feel inspiration rising — that story that’s been stirring inside me for days is finally ready to be born.
Here comes my food. The waiter is smiling. I smile too.
I’m ready to write.
The Night Owl Hotel does exist — but only in my imagination.
It’s the place I wish existed for every night like this one: when I crave the world, but in curated company.
Salima
Just me thinking out loud over here