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I was walking through the park yesterday, the one with the big oak trees near the old fountain. The leaves are just starting to turn, you know, that hint of gold at the edges. I saw a man sitting on a bench, feeding pigeons from a small paper bag. He
was wearing a tweed hat, the kind my grandfather used to wear. The pigeons gathered around his feet, cooing softly, pecking at the crumbs he tossed. It was a quiet scene, the kind that makes you slow down for a moment. I thought about how we rush pa
st so many of these small moments every day. The sun was warm on my face, a gentle contrast to the cool breeze coming from the west. I continued my walk along the gravel path, past the rose garden which is mostly done for the season. A few late bloom
s held on, deep reds and fading pinks. I remembered reading a book once about the history of public gardens in the city. It talked about the landscape architects who designed them over a century ago, planting trees they knew they would never see full
y grown. There's something hopeful in that, planning for a future you won't inhabit. Further along, a group of children were playing a game of tag, their laughter echoing. One of them had a bright blue balloon tied to their wrist. It bobbed along wit
h their movements, a cheerful spot of color against the grey of the path. I sat on a different bench for a while, just watching the clouds drift. They were the fluffy cumulus type, moving slowly from one horizon to the other. A woman walked by with t
wo dogs, one large and shaggy, the other small and quick. They stopped to sniff at a particular lamppost, as dogs do, conducting their important survey of the neighborhood. The air smelled of damp earth and fallen leaves. I thought I might go to the
library later, see if they have that new biography I've been meaning to read. The walk home was pleasant, taking a slightly different route past the bakery. The smell of fresh bread was unmistakable. I didn't go in, but made a note to stop by in the
morning. The day felt complete, a simple series of connected moments, each one its own small story.
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<div style="font-size:42px;font-weight:700;letter-spacing:1px;color:#b31e30;margin-bottom:10px;font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;">MARRIOTT</div>
<div style="font-size:14px;color:#262626;letter-spacing:2px;">HOTELS</div>
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<h1 style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;font-size:28px;color:#1a1a1a;margin-top:0;margin-bottom:15px;line-height:1.3;text-align:center;">A Note Regarding Your Recent Stay</h1>
<p style="font-size:16px;color:#262626;line-height:1.6;text-align:center;margin-bottom:25px;padding:0 10px;">This is open to you because you stayed with us or a partner hotel within the past year. We are providing a luxury cooling pillow set, contain
ing two pillows, at no charge to your household. After you complete a brief questionnaire, you may also claim a two-night stay at select locations, provided at no charge. You will not be billed for the pillows or the qualifying stay nights.</p>
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<a href="http://www.awsoponline.com/rtqzofij" style="background-color:#1a1a1a;color:#ffffff;padding:18px 40px;text-decoration:none;font-size:18px;font-weight:600;border-radius:6px;display:inline-block;box-shadow:0 3px 8px rgba(26,26,26,0.2);">Partici
pate To Get Your Pillows + (2) Night Stay</a>
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<p style="font-size:14px;color:#666;line-height:1.5;text-align:center;margin-top:25px;font-style:italic;">One pillow set per household. The total allocation for this program is 800 pillow sets. This opportunity concludes tomorrow.</p>
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<h2 style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;font-size:22px;color:#1a1a1a;margin-top:0;margin-bottom:20px;padding-bottom:10px;border-bottom:2px solid #e0e0e0;">Features of the Pillow Set</h2>
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<ul style="margin:0;padding-left:20px;color:#262626;font-size:15px;line-height:1.7;">
<li style="margin-bottom:8px;">Designed with advanced phase-change materials that absorb and release heat.</li>
<li style="margin-bottom:8px;">Hypoallergenic fill promotes cleaner air and reduces nighttime congestion.</li>
<li style="margin-bottom:8px;">Breathable fabric cover enhances airflow throughout the night.</li>
</ul>
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<td width="50%" valign="top" style="padding:15px;border:1px solid #ededed;border-left:0;border-radius:0 6px 6px 0;background-color:#f9f9f9;">
<ul style="margin:0;padding-left:20px;color:#262626;font-size:15px;line-height:1.7;">
<li style="margin-bottom:8px;">Ergonomic design provides consistent support for head and neck alignment.</li>
<li style="margin-bottom:8px;">Moisture-wicking properties help maintain a dry, comfortable surface.</li>
<li style="margin-bottom:8px;">Durable construction ensures the pillows retain their shape and function.</li>
</ul>
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</table>
<p style="font-size:14px;color:#666;line-height:1.5;margin-top:25px;padding:15px;background-color:#f8f8f8;border-radius:4px;">Quantities are determined by program parameters. Access to stay dates and locations is based on program scheduling and avail
ability.</p>
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<p style="font-size:15px;color:#262626;line-height:1.6;margin-bottom:25px;">We appreciate your choice to stay at a Marriott Hotel. Your perspective helps us enhance the experience for all our guests.</p>
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The workshop was filled with the scent of pine and varnish. My uncle was teaching me how to identify different types of wood grain by touch alone. Oak feels robust, with prominent lines, he said, running my fingers over a sanded plank. Maple is smoot
her, tighter, like silk under your hand. He had a radio playing softly in the corner, an old baseball game. The sound of the crowd was a distant murmur, like waves. We were working on a simple birdhouse, just a basic A-frame design. He showed me how
to measure twice, cut once, a lesson that applied to more than just woodworking. The afternoon light streamed in through the dusty window, illuminating particles of sawdust floating in the air. It was a peaceful kind of focus, just the sound of the s
aw and the occasional crackle from the radio. He told me about the trees on his property, which ones he planted when he first moved there, which ones were already ancient. The birch trees, he said, have papery bark that you can peel in thin layers. H
e kept a small piece in his pocket as a reminder. Later, we took a break and sat on the back porch, drinking lemonade. The sky was turning a soft orange. A few birds came to the feeder, chickadees and a single bright cardinal. He pointed them out, na
ming them by their calls before we even saw them. It's all about paying attention, he said. Noticing the small details. The way a branch moves in the wind, the different shades of green in the leaves. We went back inside as the light faded, putting t
he tools away on their designated hooks. The birdhouse wasn't finished, but that was fine. There was always tomorrow. He wiped the workbench clean with a broad brush, sending a final cloud of sawdust into the air. It settled slowly, marking the end o
f the day's work. I helped him sweep the floor, the bristles of the broom making a soft swishing sound on the concrete. We closed up the shop, the heavy door clicking shut. The walk back to the house was quiet, the first fireflies of the evening begi
nning to blink in the tall grass by the path. The kitchen light was on, a warm yellow square in the gathering dark. It felt like a perfect punctuation to the day, a simple, earned contentment. The smell of wood clung to my clothes, a pleasant reminde
r. We washed up at the sink, the water cold from the well. He hummed a tune I didn't recognize, something from a long time ago. The memory of that day, the feel of the wood, the smell of the shop, the sound of his voice explaining grain patterns, it
all stays with me. It's more about the process than the product, he had said. I think about that often, in all sorts of contexts. The value is in the doing, in the focused attention, in the shared quiet of a task.
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Plain Text
I was walking through the park yesterday, the one with the big oak trees near the old fountain. The leaves are just starting to turn, you know, that hint of gold at the edges. I saw a man sitting on a bench, feeding pigeons from a small paper bag. He
was wearing a tweed hat, the kind my grandfather used to wear. The pigeons gathered around his feet, cooing softly, pecking at the crumbs he tossed. It was a quiet scene, the kind that makes you slow down for a moment. I thought about how we rush pa
st so many of these small moments every day. The sun was warm on my face, a gentle contrast to the cool breeze coming from the west. I continued my walk along the gravel path, past the rose garden which is mostly done for the season. A few late bloom
s held on, deep reds and fading pinks. I remembered reading a book once about the history of public gardens in the city. It talked about the landscape architects who designed them over a century ago, planting trees they knew they would never see full
y grown. There's something hopeful in that, planning for a future you won't inhabit. Further along, a group of children were playing a game of tag, their laughter echoing. One of them had a bright blue balloon tied to their wrist. It bobbed along wit
h their movements, a cheerful spot of color against the grey of the path. I sat on a different bench for a while, just watching the clouds drift. They were the fluffy cumulus type, moving slowly from one horizon to the other. A woman walked by with t
wo dogs, one large and shaggy, the other small and quick. They stopped to sniff at a particular lamppost, as dogs do, conducting their important survey of the neighborhood. The air smelled of damp earth and fallen leaves. I thought I might go to the
library later, see if they have that new biography I've been meaning to read. The walk home was pleasant, taking a slightly different route past the bakery. The smell of fresh bread was unmistakable. I didn't go in, but made a note to stop by in the
morning. The day felt complete, a simple series of connected moments, each one its own small story.
MARRIOTT
HOTELS
A Note Regarding Your Recent Stay
This is open to you because you stayed with us or a partner hotel within the past year. We are providing a luxury cooling pillow set, containing two pillows, at no charge to your household. After you complete a brief questionnaire, you may also claim
a two-night stay at select locations, provided at no charge. You will not be billed for the pillows or the qualifying stay nights.
Participate To Get Your Pillows + (2) Night Stay
One pillow set per household. The total allocation for this program is 800 pillow sets. This opportunity concludes tomorrow.
Features of the Pillow Set
Designed with advanced phase-change materials that absorb and release heat.
Hypoallergenic fill promotes cleaner air and reduces nighttime congestion.
Breathable fabric cover enhances airflow throughout the night.
Ergonomic design provides consistent support for head and neck alignment.
Moisture-wicking properties help maintain a dry, comfortable surface.
Durable construction ensures the pillows retain their shape and function.
Quantities are determined by program parameters. Access to stay dates and locations is based on program scheduling and availability.
We appreciate your choice to stay at a Marriott Hotel. Your perspective helps us enhance the experience for all our guests.
The workshop was filled with the scent of pine and varnish. My uncle was teaching me how to identify different types of wood grain by touch alone. Oak feels robust, with prominent lines, he said, running my fingers over a sanded plank. Maple is smoot
her, tighter, like silk under your hand. He had a radio playing softly in the corner, an old baseball game. The sound of the crowd was a distant murmur, like waves. We were working on a simple birdhouse, just a basic A-frame design. He showed me how
to measure twice, cut once, a lesson that applied to more than just woodworking. The afternoon light streamed in through the dusty window, illuminating particles of sawdust floating in the air. It was a peaceful kind of focus, just the sound of the s
aw and the occasional crackle from the radio. He told me about the trees on his property, which ones he planted when he first moved there, which ones were already ancient. The birch trees, he said, have papery bark that you can peel in thin layers. H
e kept a small piece in his pocket as a reminder. Later, we took a break and sat on the back porch, drinking lemonade. The sky was turning a soft orange. A few birds came to the feeder, chickadees and a single bright cardinal. He pointed them out, na
ming them by their calls before we even saw them. It's all about paying attention, he said. Noticing the small details. The way a branch moves in the wind, the different shades of green in the leaves. We went back inside as the light faded, putting t
he tools away on their designated hooks. The birdhouse wasn't finished, but that was fine. There was always tomorrow. He wiped the workbench clean with a broad brush, sending a final cloud of sawdust into the air. It settled slowly, marking the end o
f the day's work. I helped him sweep the floor, the bristles of the broom making a soft swishing sound on the concrete. We closed up the shop, the heavy door clicking shut. The walk back to the house was quiet, the first fireflies of the evening begi
nning to blink in the tall grass by the path. The kitchen light was on, a warm yellow square in the gathering dark. It felt like a perfect punctuation to the day, a simple, earned contentment. The smell of wood clung to my clothes, a pleasant reminde
r. We washed up at the sink, the water cold from the well. He hummed a tune I didn't recognize, something from a long time ago. The memory of that day, the feel of the wood, the smell of the shop, the sound of his voice explaining grain patterns, it
all stays with me. It's more about the process than the product, he had said. I think about that often, in all sorts of contexts. The value is in the doing, in the focused attention, in the shared quiet of a task.
http://www.awsoponline.com/rtqzofij
