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No one likes being taken for a tourist. Even if we’re thousands of miles from our usual hangouts, we often want to believe we belong in a place, no matter how briefly we’re visiting or how fanciful the idea. Fine hotels give us a sense that we matter in any location—the very purpose of their existence, after all, is to tend to our needs, make us feel at home and indulge our every childish whim as dotingly as any grandmother.


This story is from Kinfolk Issue Twenty

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