BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN: "I'm On Fire"

To admire, to desire, to aspire, to inspire. I am born with fire.

LUZ CASAL: "Piensa En Mi"

Nerja - Frigiliana - Málaga (Spain)

NOE VENABLE: "Prettiness"

The prettiness of pettiness. Or vice-versa.

FINE YOUNG CANNIBALS: "Don't Look Back"

Don’t look around; don’t look forward. Just do good and don’t look back.

BARBARA STREISAND: "Lost Inside Of You"

I wasn’t searching but the day found me. It’s a beautiful day. I smell like morning and the morning smells like roses. I slowly open my eye lid and you enter in all your beauty. The curve of your hip waves at me like a palm tree in the winds. Careless, inviting. An open door. The sultry night conspired to unveil your naked body: the bed sheet slid off from your thighs while you were sleeping and it is wrapped around your chest and upper body. I can’t see your face, as you have curled up and turned yourself away to the other side, but I hear your slow and steady breath that caresses your silky hair with each exhalation. I stroke some strings unnoticeably and tuck a tuft away behind your ear, carefully yet full of care. I don’t want to wake you, at least not yet, and silently slide closer. I cradle your back without moving and hug one arm around you. I close my eyes and dream the dreams you’re dreaming. I hear the sea singing in the shell of your ear and start licking it devotedly. I worship your neck with a thousand tiny kisses, each one teasingly tender, and bring my mouth slightly lower with each pressing of my lips. My hand glides beneath the sheet, and without hesitation it finds your warm breasts. They feel familiar and new at the same time. I rub their velvet surface and circle around the honey-glazed cherry on top of that creamy skin. You greet me with suspiration and stretch yourself out on your back, as such giving me free reign to explore your undiscovered territories with longing eyes and a greedy smile. The tip of my finger descends to your belly button like a hungry lion approaches its prey in the savannah. Our lips find each other, blindly, and they speak the same language without uttering a word. Your mouth is an irresistible piece of fruit, ripe and juicy, and I nibble at it with an insatiable desire. The kissing arouses me and my tongue wanders from your mouth to your ear and back again. I play piano with my fingers in between your thighs and you get enchanted by the divine melody of the lustful notes they produce. You are a willing audience and moan from exaltation. You crawl encouragingly and I feel your desire welling up from within. I repeat the refrain in ever-changing rhythms and you pant in unison. I lift myself up and hang over you, circling like a hungry vulture that is about to strike from above; my fingers linger inside. I bring my head down, with eyes closed, and indulge into the sweetness of your breasts. My lips spiral relentlessly and my tongue roams the landscape of your skin. We get dizzy from excitement and lose ourselves in the corridors of our fantasies. The pace quickens, our breath shortens. My left hand no longer knows what the right hand is holding. I am a ferocious hunting animal, filled with adrenalin. With my knees resting on the mattress, I curl my back and tighten my butt to the ceiling, as if I instinctively withdraw for a split second, just to attack immediately again and devour the feast of your body. My tongue chases my hand away and plunges into the darkest caves in between your legs, in search for the heavenly manna that lies within. You coo with consent. I suck in an endless number of combinations, as if I purposely postpone finding the right code to unlock the depths of your imagination. I tease you without mercy, repeatedly abandoning and resuming my mission. You heave even more, and I go on eternally. Testosterone is pumping atrociously in each and every blood vessel and there’s no choice but to give in and surrender to the deepest of all drifts. We look into each other’s eyes, as two silent accomplices. We crave for more, to become totally one. I tie myself to your sweaty palms, and push myself up again. You stroke my arm, as you draw a painting on my veins; they pop out like swollen blue rivers, eagerly turbulent, and your finger floats downstream along their meandering shores to the vast open oceans of my hands. I am bound by invisible shackles and melt inside of you. We both shiver from sheer titillation. I twist and turn my compass in the valley that divides north, east, south and west of your body. You grab the cheeks of my bottom and pull me even closer. Our lips are entangled; our souls inter-twined. Our hearts pulse frantically on the beat of each thrust and any dimension of time and space becomes meaningless as we make love with all six senses, just the way it was meant to be. We sow seeds of love and they blossom at once; time stands still as body and mind unite.

DON Mc LEAN: "Starry Starry Night"

It must be dark first, for even the brightest star to become visible.

SOUL II SOUL: "Move Me No Mountain"

Although we never studied it, we practise emotional archaeology in the warmth of each other’s arms. We dig for hidden treasures in the sandy desert of each other’s past. We reveal long-forgotten objects from another era that have not been exposed to sunlight for many centuries and turn them in our hands. They look deformed, over time their original shape became altered. The essence of this planet is energy and material, and they determine any earthly appearance. The objects may have lost their original purpose; their only purpose left is to remind us of what else replaced them later.  We frown our eyebrows, look puzzled; ultimately we decipher the code by looking into each other’s eyes, without uttering a word even. We wipe the dust off from each other, and for lack of mirror, we describe to each other how the other one looks like.  Feelings and emotions are in flux, but ultimately they always solidify into a stronger soul.  Soul-deep. A bond that feels like “since forever”. One single soul in two different bodies, equal to each other like communicating vessels. Soul-high. Move me no mountain.  Just whisper me a simple tale. The essence of our existence is captured in stories that are shared around the bonfire. In the past we understand the present and sense the future. Nothing is new, it’s new to ourselves at most.

DUFFY: "Well Well Well"

喝水不忘掘井人 (hē shuǐ bú wàng jué jǐng rén)

"When you drink water, think of those who dug the well."

RUSH: "A Passage To Bangkok"

Bangkok (Thailand)