Who wouldn’t like a room like this?
The room seemed to be atop a hill, with a blue sky broken by the occasional puffy cloud overhead, a changing landscape stretching out in all directions, and a green carpet underfoot to remind one of grass. One half expected a fresh breeze on one’s face. To the north stood a city on a bay, its boats suggesting a location considerably further east than London: Shanghai, perhaps? Then came a tropical beach, with coconut palms and birds too exotic even for Nature. Farmland came to the south, more French than English, with a small, Tuscan-looking hill town in the distance. That gave way to jungle, with monkeys and a sharp-eyed parrot watching over the child’s cot. Everything looked real enough to walk to.
—Laurie R. King, The Language of Bees