FRANK SINATRA: "Let It Snow"

Hautes Fagnes (Belgium)

JADIEL: “La Cucaracha”

I open the curtains of my hotel room and look outside, where the early morning Vietnamese village life is a bustling scene of an unrecorded mute movie. I do have to go now, duty is calling, so I will have to watch this episode some other day.

I button my shirt, glance in the mirror to adjust what needs to be adjusted and take a seat on the sofa. I put my socks on, first left and then right. Left and right foot, I mean, because there’s no such thing as left and right socks. There’s no green or red colour mark on the soles of socks, like they used to put on children’s shoes to indicate which one is left and which one is right. Socks are neutral, they don’t chose sides. You can put them on either foot, left or right. So let me rephrase: I put my socks on, first on the left foot and then on the right foot. Right and then left would have been possible as well. By contrast, twice left or twice right would have been rather odd, though to my knowledge, there is no law in any jurisdiction in the world which prohibits doing so.

I put my shoes on also, for it would have felt like an uncompleted procedure not to do so after putting the socks on. I stand up, take my luggage and step towards the door. But there’s something not quite right. I feel something bugging me in my right shoe. Something presses my toes slightly. For a second, I wonder whether I should just ignore it and step out, or take my shoes off again. I chose to sit down, and unlace my shoes. Well, I unlace one actually, the right one, for it is pointless to unlace the left one as well, when I only need to find out what is hidden inside the right one. I take my shoe off, hold it upside down, and shake it like a bartender would shake a cocktail shaker. Something lands on the carpet. I look down and see a tiny creature, on its back, waving its little arms in despair, crying for help. A cockroach! “Goooooooooood Morning, Vietnam…”. Now that’s a real movie.

NICKY MINAJ: “Envy”

Jealousy sizzles like a coal in warm ashes; it creeps like oil in the hinges of a relationship. A little bit of it is necessary, but too much of it is a waste, just like any other liquid that is spilled.

THE COOKS:"See The Sun"

撥雲見日 (bō yún jiàn rì)

"Dispel the clouds to see the sun."

YIRUMA: "Dream"

Little dreams. They come in small packages. And never with a warning. They catch you by surprise, like a storm that blows the hat off the head of a lonesome man, who walks under the miserable, hanging arms of a naked winter tree. A fragile thought lingers in me, and I imagine smelling a hint of fire enfolded in the misty morning haze that halts with hesitation over the frozen fields. There’s a night to remember, and a little dream in the break of dawn.

ADAM LAMBERT: "What Do You Want From Me?"

Pekanbaru (Indonesia)

FALL OUT BOY: "Thanks For The Memories"

I had heard no more, and had buried any further thoughts in a place I had forgotten before I even remembered. It’s strange, how our memory works. It decides for us, holds tight what we felt was slipping away, and loosens its grip on what we desperately hold on to. What else can we do but to surrender to the whims of our own randomness. It’s a sick kind of revenge, and it feels uncomfortable to be betrayed by our own reason, but life is an architect who draws different sketches on his table than what we asked for.

JOHN COLTRANE and MILES DAVIS: "So What"

It took no more than a second, but it was a second with a long history before, and an irreversible future after it. History is a long time, yet it’s decided by moments rather than centuries.

NILS PETTER MOLVAER: "Hurry Slowly"

Festina lente.

"Hurry slowly." (quote by Suetonius)

LIL' KIM (Feat. Sisqo): "How Many Licks"

He never heard of her thereafter. She drifted away like a piece of wood on the ocean and surrendered to the wills of nature, in stead of her own, for it requires more effort to swim than to float. Moreover, it assumes a destination, a vague idea at least of where you are heading to. And all too plenty of ideas she had, yet none of it encompassed it all. She had no master plan, no perseverance also to complete even one of the many things she ever started. Many frantically juggle with an ever-increasing number of cones in the circus of life; she chooses to put them down and give up. Patience was a virtue she had never sought to acquire.

Perhaps he had been nothing more to her than a tree to sniffle on, with the curiosity of an unleashed dog that wags its tail happily while wandering aimlessly in the park on a lazy summer Sunday. He turns his head to the pond; the sound of children’s drama and acted tears. He realised that his fate was just as randomly determined as that of an ice-cream by the whims of a spoilt child, who bans a scoop to the trash bin after just one lick, after having begged for it relentlessly first.

PEARL JAM: "Long Road"

The night is pregnant of brilliant ideas. The horizon brims with a sweaty anxiety. An odour of desire looms into a shadow that is mistaken for darkness. It’s a long road from the heart to the mouth.

AEROSMITH: "Crazy"

We are only crazy through the eyes of others.

Cartel: "The Perfect Mistake"

I discovered yoga by chance, by mistake almost. I had been doing long-distance running for a number of years, until I ultimately ran a 42.195 km distance never to repeat it again in this lifetime. Only humans are a species crazy enough to focus on a random number like that, and to spend a few years of their life cultivating it. After reaching that self-imposed goal, I felt a bit disoriented and turned to the gym for a change. But it takes bravery to keep visiting a fitness centre. Most of us start fanatically, but when the enthusiasm of the new year’s resolutions fade, it’s very hard to stay motivated by the cold metal sound of weights falling down, or the view in the mirror of oneself lifting dumbbells.

Sure, I had peeked through the classroom window occasionally, and I had noticed that bunch of disciples performing all kinds of silly poses in front of their instructor, but “yoga is for girls, right?” and “it can’t be that hard”. Nonetheless, one day I joined the centre’s yoga class that I had inconspicuously been observing for a number of weeks already, and I felt like an intruding duckling in a group of graceful swans. But to my surprise, the swans accepted me, and they didn’t notice that I suffered so hard during my very first hour of yoga ever. Perhaps it was courtesy of them pretending not to be aware of my legs trembling like an erupting volcano. Perhaps it was their good manners not to hear my choking, as if I were fuming like that same cursed volcano. In any case, something changed inside of me. Beyond my prejudice, I felt I belonged there, in that very moment, when all thoughts seemed to escape like ashes in the air. And when I closed my eyes after that one hour of intense yoga practice, I felt peaceful, silent, yet invigorated. I was immovable, but moved. It was love at first fight, but a fight I loved to lose.

CAT STEVENS: "Morning Has Broken"

The night evaporates in the morning dew; a long shadow that stretches itself out behind me like a lazy cat. The lion city roars rather like a sleepy kitty at this merciless early time of the day. A bird tweets for attention, happy to be noticed before the increasing swell of street sounds will drown his melody in a whirlpool of noise. The carpet trader is struggling to open the padlock of his shophouse; some aunties are cutting fresh vegetables in an empty restaurant. Every open window frames an enchanting painting. A city is beautiful in its ugliness. My pace is light, as I walk through colourful Haji Lane. The stench of some cigarettes, the foul smell of beer. Odorous remains of late night troops on the loose, who wandered on the roads in quest for companionship. When we seek thrills, it’s actually the sense of belonging we are after. It’s easier to betray oneself in search of recognition by others, than to recognize yourself. The escape to inner freedom starts when we break the chains that others impose on us. That’s what makes yoga so appealing. Forget about the wary smiles, the raised eyebrows. In yoga, you don’t have to adopt a pose, you become the pose. I step in for my today’s yoga teacher’s class. I crave for coffee.

NOOR E KHUDA: "My Name Is Khan"

"My name is Khan. Khan. From the epiglottis". I can't recall the last time I had watched a movie on the plane, despite the frequent flying. But it was even longer ago since a movie brought tears to my eyes. And more than just once. Simply impressive, and me impressed.

EDDIE VEDDER: "Better Days"

Bali (Indonesia)