STORIES&MUSIC

Once upon the time… Well, some five years ago, I was at the second grade of primary school. My parents made an important decision: They would leave us alone for the first time in the evening, because they were going to the theatre. I was very happy at first! They usually left us with our nanny or someone adult, but...

Back then, there were beautiful plains in Africa. And there lived a kind and clever king. It was a lion and his name was Son. Unfortunately, the good times didn't last forever.

There was a raging storm this land hasn't seen in years when the train accidentally stopped on the bridge in the middle of nowhere. However this didn't interrupt Locrine in his sleep. But a few minutes later he was woken up by Sunbeams that tore the dark sky into a quiet sunny weather.

When you enter this room, first of all, you notice that the room itself has a Christmas tinge in some way, although the space is sparsely decorated with Christmas knick-knacks and anything that would be close to any holiday at all.

I can smell the fresh air filling the space everywhere around me. It is not heavy. It is not cold. It tastes like a rebirth to a new day. The wind is so light that I almost cannot feel it. It plays with my hair a little bit. It tangles them. It lifts them and then puts them down. Again...

Once upon a time there was a not so great man, who had loads of names. If you followed him closely every day, you could hear him introduce himself differently each day. He used made up names like Mick Swagger or John Jones Jr (he once used the name Mehmed Mohammed but that was very racist so let's not talk...

Its the eleventh of August, 1942. I am a US soldier, on the north battlefront at Jimbo's pass in Cambodia. This might be the last thing I ever write, since in two hours I am going to battle. Here I am going to write about a mission, on which my best friend died yesterday.

I am woken up by the piercing sound of a heavy old bell tolling. 7 a.m. The city is already wide awake, people are crossing the streets, traffic lights are battling for maintaining their dominance upon the dusky alleys. They're losing their fight, however, as the golden rays of sunshine penetrate the clouded skies above. Another morning, another...

I want to be like a wild rose.

You're mixing my black coffee with milk and sugar,