Choosing the books was one of the hardest parts.
Not for lack of them, but because choosing books is always choosing a part of ourselves.
At Dream Guincho, books were not meant as decoration.
They were meant as company.
There are books in the living rooms, in corners, in the bedrooms.
Scattered as if someone had just put them down to go and make tea.
There is no closed library and no definitive list.
There are stories that intersect.
Books that stay.
Books that leave.
Some guests take a book with them.
Others leave one behind.
We have never made rules about it.
We believed that those who love books know how to care for them and for everything they represent.
The rooms are named after stories, because sleeping is also a way of continuing a book within.
Because tranquillity often begins like this: with silence, a good bed, and a sentence that stays.
We like to think of home as a place where there are books.
Used books, underlined, marked by time.
Books that explain nothing, but help us remain.
It is said that Lord Byron felt at home in places where time seemed to slow down.
We like that idea.
The idea that a home or a hotel is also made of words that do not demand immediate attention.
Here, books help create that rhythm.
They do not call out.
They wait.
At Dream Guincho, books are part of tranquillity.
Like an open window, like an afternoon without plans, like being at home even when we are far from it.















