I really like this wonderful piece by Alfian Sa'at. I can read it several times over and each time, it finds its way into my heart and warm the strings that hold...
"My father is a fierce man, meaning, obvious. My mother is not so fierce; she is subtler. My father taught me how to write fiction: 'A boy comes home late. A father wrecks his room. This is a story. A boy comes home late. A father wrecks his room out of fury. This is a plot.' But my mother concentrates on the details. The disfigured insects now buzz to me: 'Do not break my heart, because even after I mend it I cannot restore it as it was before.' In this manner my mother taught me poetry."
"My father is a fierce man, meaning, obvious. My mother is not so fierce; she is subtler. My father taught me how to write fiction: 'A boy comes home late. A father wrecks his room. This is a story. A boy comes home late. A father wrecks his room out of fury. This is a plot.' But my mother concentrates on the details. The disfigured insects now buzz to me: 'Do not break my heart, because even after I mend it I cannot restore it as it was before.' In this manner my mother taught me poetry."
I first sampled Only You on a rainy Parisian night at the Virgin music store along Champs Elysées, bought the album once I got back to Singapore and have been playing it to sleep on so many nights ever since... Other hours is the one song that stood out and made my eyes well up in tears the first time I heard it in full... the lyrics spoke volumes, the music arrangement so melancholy... it just felt so surreal... i couldn't help but whisper... how did you know??!!
other hours
Harry Connick, Jr.
© 2003 Papa’s-June Music, Inc. (BMI)
Who are you in the other hours
When your hair’s undone and your
guard’s let down
When you’re all alone in your
all-night gown
Are you the life of the party then
Sitting by yourself, again
Where are you in the other hours
Are you in a secret place that calls
When you’re by yourself
within your walls
Are you undressed with
someplace to go
Off to catch your private show
Why do you greet the morning
Draping your heart in a shroud
Why must your life be a side show
Played to an ignorant crowd
How are you in the other hours
Do you pray for the
morning to arrive
Do you wonder how
you can stay alive
Are you at peace in a
troubled mind
Hoping no one else will find
You’re only playing dumb
‘Till the other hours come
Who do you think you’re fooling
Turning your face from the light
Clearly, you’re turning from
something
Better revealed by the night
What are you in the other hours
Are you queen of song
abandon poem
Thinking how your crown of jewels
had shown
You’re sitting there with no one
to rein
You think no one sees your pain
And no one hears your drum
So the other hours come
other hours
Harry Connick, Jr.
© 2003 Papa’s-June Music, Inc. (BMI)
Who are you in the other hours
When your hair’s undone and your
guard’s let down
When you’re all alone in your
all-night gown
Are you the life of the party then
Sitting by yourself, again
Where are you in the other hours
Are you in a secret place that calls
When you’re by yourself
within your walls
Are you undressed with
someplace to go
Off to catch your private show
Why do you greet the morning
Draping your heart in a shroud
Why must your life be a side show
Played to an ignorant crowd
How are you in the other hours
Do you pray for the
morning to arrive
Do you wonder how
you can stay alive
Are you at peace in a
troubled mind
Hoping no one else will find
You’re only playing dumb
‘Till the other hours come
Who do you think you’re fooling
Turning your face from the light
Clearly, you’re turning from
something
Better revealed by the night
What are you in the other hours
Are you queen of song
abandon poem
Thinking how your crown of jewels
had shown
You’re sitting there with no one
to rein
You think no one sees your pain
And no one hears your drum
So the other hours come
