LEONA LEWIS: "Better In Time"

揠苗助长 (Yà miáo zhù zhǎng)

You won't help the new plants grow by pulling them up higher.

ENYA: "Angels"

Manila (Philippines)

TIMBALAND (Feat. NELLY FURTADO and JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE): “Give It To Me”

- “Can I have a coffee with milk, please?”
- “You mean a flat white?”
- “A what? A flat white? I just want a coffee with milk.”
- “Yaya..that’s a flat white.”
- “Oh. So that’s what you call it around here. I thought you were referring to me. Good to know. I learn something new today. Then how do you call a black coffee, without milk or sugar or anything?”
- “That’s a long black.”

I just assume there’s no racist theory behind these names.

- “So you want a cup or a mug?”
- “Euh…what do you mean?”
- “A big coffee or a small coffee?”
- “Oh. A big one please. I’m sorry, I don't come here very often.”
- “No worries, mate.”

One hour later I’m hanging in the air, flying over the outback in a plane filled with Australians. Fat whites, I guess. Many of them drink two or three mini bottles of whiskey. It’s 10 AM in the morning, for god’s sake. The cabin crew asks me what I want to drink. As if I have never known any other word for it, I order…a flat white.

MC HAMMER: "U Can't Touch This"

The past can be seen, but it can't be touched.

JAMES BLUNT: “Give Me Some Love”

Attention should not be mistaken for love. Sincere concern of a person for somebody else is not measured by the number of words spoken. It is revealed in simple questions, not in unsolicited answers. Attention is the fertile soil in which love can grow. An essential yet insufficient pre-requisite. It has always been there, and it always will.
Attention isn’t an instant thing. Sometimes people think of others as a product on a supermarket shelf, always available for them to take whenever they feel like it. Shelfish. Humans are no take-away meal that can be ordered whenever you are hungry. The best meals are the ones you cook yourself, and that takes time and dedication to prepare.

ABBA: "Money Money Money"

Does poverty have an ugly face, which we don't want to look into the eyes so that we feel better? Is it a child’s hand, begging for some money? The amputated leg of the man selling newspapers at the traffic lights maybe? Is it a 7 year old boy’s nose filled with the smell of glue? Or an empty baby stomach? Does poverty have the ears of a deaf woman, listening in vain for the sound of better times coming? Is it a painful back on the cold and hard concrete floor of a windy train station? Or the soft and warm breasts which the teenage girl rents out to whoever, to pay for her next dose?

BLACK EYED PEAS: "Don't Phunk With My Heart"

路遥知马力,日久见人心 (lù yáo zhī mǎ lì,rì jiǔ jiàn rén xīn)

Over a long distance, you learn about the strength of your horse. Over a long time, you learn about the character of your friend.

SADE: "And I Miss You"

Dear Thoth:

My name is B. I arrived in this city only two weeks ago. I will be spending three months here for an exchange program at university. After that, I will just be moving back home to Miami. I had long looked forward to this. When I applied to participate in the program, I was told that the chances to be in were very slim. So you can imagine that I was very excited when I got the fantastic news that I could come here. That was about a year ago. But then I met my girlfriend, just a few months back. Aaaiii… She really turned my life upside down… I am soooooo desperately in love with her. I never experienced this before. I almost feel like a teenager again. Hahaha. I laugh, but actually I feel a bit down. I know I should be happy and I should feel thrilled for being here. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. But to be honest, I long so much to go back and see her already, and I am wondering what I am doing so far away from the US in the first place. I really hope you can write her a love letter for me. Make her cry from emotion when she reads it. I am really not good at writing myself. I never get any further than “I love you” and “I miss you”. And this is really what I want to tell her, but when I write that it just sounds so simple. Well, I am sure you know what I mean. I just want to tell her that I miss her so much here. Her name is B.

Thanks.

B.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My beloved B.

If Love was a four-letter word, it would have your two arms and legs. It would embrace me, like I embrace you under the sun outside. I hear your breath as you snooze in the morning haze. I see your face, turning your head as you walk away from me. It makes me happy. You wave at me. I dreamt of you last night. I am a chicken without head; flying in all directions, to anywhere and nowhere but always to you. All ways lead to Rome, and Rome was not built in one day. You are my Roman empress. In you I awake, in you I fall asleep. Where are you now, as I type these words? I wish you were here. You would not need to say a single word, you would not need to tell me anything. I sense the care in the soft touch of your fingers as you touch my cheek. I never wanted to see you as much. I long for you, as much as you are short of me. You made me change. You made me hate to go. You make me want to stay. Love me. Dare to look me in the eyes now. Surrender. Soft and tender. You make me crazy. I count the days. I pray. A sun and a beach. A pizza in your sunglasses. This is it. I pronounce your thoughts before you think them. Total understanding. We are two hands of one body, we are two eyes of one face.

Hold me. I want to hold you. I wait one hour to see you five minutes. I kiss you five minutes to miss you one hour. You look more splendid than the late afternoon sun, you smell like pink flowers in the cherry blossom season. Never can a heart be filled more to the rim, and beyond. There are not enough words to say it all, there are plenty of words to say it all. Pure love. A silk glove. Let my fingers play the piano on your back, let me touch you like you have never been touched before. I am an explorer of your undiscovered territories; where I roam, is home. Take me where you want me to. Hypnotise me. Mesmerize me. Jeopardize me. Tantalize me. Put oil on my fire. Extinguish my desire. I will sing for you. You linger in me, like the taste of chocolate in a mouth. You keep me awake at night, invisibly in sight. And always and ever, always bright.

You are the missing colour of the rainbow. Your initials are missing in Mendeljev’s table. You are the chemical element that has yet to be discovered. You are the answer to any unanswered question. You are the mysterious solution to unresolved mysteries, the future of long-forgotten histories. If truth ever had a meaning, it would be revealed in your eyes seeking refuge in mine. I want to hide my soul in you, bury it forever in your remote caves that keep it away from all things harmful. Even closer than my body ever can, do I want my spirit to flow in the blood that’s running through your veins. You smiled like you never did before. Encore. And more. I would carve it in marble if I could, I would paint it on canvas, I should.

You sing next to me. Lovingly lovely. There is time ahead for us to write the missing lyrics that you now seem to have forgotten. Life is a song with an endless number of melodies. You inspire me like I inspire you. You lift me up to greater heights, you are the wind that blows in my sails. You are a painting of glittering sunlight on the water surface in a frame of lush green trees. There is harmonious beauty in every day with you.

I miss you. I love you.

Kisses,

B.

MARCO BORSATO: "Lopen Op Het Water"

The heart is a pond of unknown depths. Sink into me as a wrinkleless cover sliding off the table. Hide beneath the shelter of your imagination and wait for better times to come. The man on the ferry will bring you to the other side. It only takes some guts to pass beyond the doorsill; for waiting is loosing and you can never set foot in the same river twice, they say. Chances flow away with the water and yet another landscape covers the river bank. The view changes by us floating downstream; the landscape itself doesn't change, for the reeds on the shore have always been there, desperately waiting to be noticed.

BLACK EYED PEAS: "Let's Get It Started"

The dawn smells of roses and unfulfilled desires. Distant treetops bath in an orange glow; they are waving witnesses along the streets of joy and sorrow. Long shades gently hug whoever they follow, sitting as guardian angels on their shoulders. The city sheds it nightly skin, shiny skyscrapers stretch themselves awake. Morning rituals go unnoticed. An ugly cup of coffee, a hint of cigarette, a cheerful voice on the radio. It’s never silent, though nothing much is ever said that really matters. Behind each four walls is another truth.