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)