The party had just ended and Elli was about to walk home when she felt a slight tap on her shoulder.

“Are you gonna be alright getting home?”

The voice belonged to one of the male guests of the party. She had seen him around, but she couldn’t really remember where she knew him from. Elli wasn’t the most sociable person so she didn’t feel comfortable enough to let him walk her home.

“I’ll be fine. I didn’t have much to drink, but thank you for the offer,” she answered politely.

At the table next to me was a girl, but not an ordinary girl.

The weather was so hot, so burning, that she almost didn’t wear any clothes.

Her hair, resembling the autumn colours.

A ring pierced through her nose, making it clear she wasn’t to be messed with.

She had a helmet with her, but no motorcycle in sight.

In my mind she was riding a scrambler to campus, but instead of driving it all the way there, she would leave it outside of campus,

because deep inside she wanted to be just a normal, typical Texan girl.

Two strangers in the night,

we were

Surrounded completely in the absence

of light

Our beacon of trust,

burned deep in my memory

I kept the signs hidden,

magnified by the silence

I tried to steer them away

from you

Left with nothing to hold onto,

except echoes of your reflection

Amplified by my thoughts,

lost in space

Zoals men weet, heeft het geschreven woord een enorme invloed heeft op de gedachtegang van de bevolking. Zodra men iets leest in de krant, heeft men vrijwel direct een mening of een oordeel klaar liggen. Dit kan zowel positief als negatief zijn. Napoleons uitspraak ‘vier vijandige kranten zijn meer te vrezen dan duizend bajonetten’ is een duidelijk voorbeeld dat men zelfs vroeger meer schrik had van het geschreven woord dan van echte wapens. Tegen daadwerkelijke wapens kan men vechten. Je kan winnen of verliezen.

Take me out to the rocky shore

to escape our life of everyday's bore

where the waves come crashing down

where even most men would weep and frown

The world is filled with nature's wonder

I'd ride with you to the far blue yonder

to the place where we feel most alive

to the rocky shore, for our final dive

Strolling through the pitoresque streets of Paris, once called the city of love. I haven’t been here for a couple of years now, but it seems to me that Paris has lost all of that love. The charm it once had, has completely vanished. Even Montmartre, which used to be one of my favourite places, especially with all the artists that roamed the streets, has now become a breeding place for scam artists to rob you of the little love you had left for this city.