George Harrison , Behind That Locked Door

Why are you still crying?
Your pain is now through
Please forget those teardrops
Let me take them for you
The love you are blessed with
This world's waiting for
So let out your heart please, please
From behind that locked door

It's time we start smiling
What else should we do?
With only this short time
I'm gonna be here with you
And the tales you have taught me
From the things that you saw
Makes me want out your heart, please, please
From behind that locked door

And if ever my love goes
If I'm rich or I'm poor
Come and let out my heart, please, please
From behind that locked door

The Beatles , Long, Long, Long

A Deal with Chaos.Hildur Guōnadóttir, Jóhann Jóhannsson

Epilogue , Jóhann Jóhannsson

Jóhann Jóhannsson , By the Roes, and by the Hinds of the Field

Orange Blossom ,HABIBI - Live à fip

You must believe in spring , Eddie Higgins Trio

Harold Budd , Juno

Jóhann Jóhannsson , A Sparrow Alighted Upon Our Shoulder

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Dhafer Youssef , Wind and Shadows

Carnival of Venice

Carnival , Venice 2017

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Mysterious Masks of Venice Masquerade

Julian Lage , Nocturne

dear mr. GOD, a letter

dear mr. GOD

as you can see all : you will read this, and i can keep the money for stamps.

you have given me so much.

you gave me a brain filled with stars which is of no use than to make life complicated.

you gave me a time in nappies, a family, school, then work,women, children, grandchildren, and you will give me nappies again in the nursing home.

your gifts are not always pleasant, sometimes a bit smelly, i am sorry to say.

and in the end you will kill me anyway.

but before you torture me day after day with headaches, dental pain and loads of daily worries.

even with guilt, you like this best, i know.

you are not a fair person,mr. GOD.

even a bit creepy when i know that you´have been the first to start artificial insemination, maybe for the fun of confusing everybody, and then look what you did to your son. 

not nice.

i learned on poems and i listened to music, i saw all the beauty you gave and all the ugliness too.

if i could be a poem i would not need to buy toilet paper, and if i was a song i would not

need to pee. if i was a painting i even would not need food.

only i would not be me then.

could you kindly make me a tree when i will be dead?

in the meantime i try to enjoy the not so serious parts of your creation. this i do take very very serious indeed.

i try to forget your bad character a bit and mine too. 

we are both as we are, or so they told me wherever i asked.

i don't know if i will ever forgive you.

yours respectfully

me

ps: send money. i know where you are.

Paul McCandless , Can't Stop The Wind