Nayori

Who’d have thought, I'll meet you at the ocean? There I was, sitting in my usual spot on the beach, down by the old rocks, holding a shell I just picked up, scratching its surface to remove dried sand on it; putting it to my ear, hoping to hear something new, besides the usual sound of the ocean.

And when I looked up, I noticed you from the distance -- you, and your long hair -- not too long but it lengthens as the wind throws it to the side, and you use your hand to keep it from your face. Your form looked so beautiful against the backdrop of orange, red and purple splashed across the early evening sky.

"Did you see the sunset?" I shouted. "It was so beautiful. We get those sunsets a lot here."

"Really?" you said. "I came out too late for it I guess. I slept all afternoon. I had just gotten in from a long trip last night, so I was really tired." You said that while still looking at the marks on the sand, and holding your hair to your cheeks.

You are standing close to the water, straining to look, wondering if those tiny marks on the sand are actually from little turtles that had just set out to the ocean. You've been told they nest here, and that they hatch around this time of the year.

They must have been really tiny, you thought. And you whispered a little prayer, that they make a safe journey to wherever they need to be, and come back, here in this very shore, many years later, stronger and bigger, to start a new journey.

"Yes, those are turtle tracks," I said, reading your mind. You look up at me. "The last one of them actually crawled to the sea just before the sun itself disappeared." I added.

"Oh, I missed a lot, didn't I?"

"There'll be sunset again tomorrow, I assure you that." I said, smiling.

"How about turtles?" You were walking towards me by this time, still sweeping your eyes around the shore, looking for something, like something you’ve lost.

I stood up. "I'll walk you around the cove tomorrow, if you want, to look for other hatchlings." That seemed to comfort you and then you stopped searching.

Like these turtles, you have been to this beach before. You were born in this coastal city but grew up in another place where the air does not smell of sea-salt. And you’ve always heard from your parents about how beautiful this beach was. It was the reason your parents settled here for a while until shortly after you were born.

And now, just as you hoped for the little turtles, you are back.

"My name is Nayori." you said, offering your hand.

"Yes... mine is Tristan… Are you...Japanese?" I knew who you were, and I knew you weren't Japanese. You didn't even look it.

"No, not Japanese. Just fascinated by it. Well, at least my dad is. That's why he gave me a Japanese name. Funny because his first introduction of anything Japanese was not from Japan, but from Japanese immigrants in South America."

"Oh yeah, I’ve heard of Fujimori. And that there are plenty of Japanese immigrants in Brazil, Peru, Argentina... Makes sense because all the Japanese had to do was cross the Pacific Ocean and they’d be in South America."

"Nayori was the name of the receptionist in the hotel my dad stayed in when he was in Brazil. He was still single then, and he was there for work, and did not know a word of Portuguese." A short faint squawking of sea birds flying overhead gave you a pause, briefly looking up. Then you continued: "She is of Japanese descent, and was the only one in the hotel who spoke English. My dad says she was so friendly, courteous, and pretty, that from then on he thought her name would make a good name for her future daughter."

"Do you know what it means?"

"Uhm, that's one thing I didn't get to ask my dad. 'Friendly, courteous, and pretty', I suppose.” And you laugh a little. “Again, it's funny he should make a mental note of that name for a daughter. He hadn't even met my mom then, much less thinking of starting a family."

My eyes wander up and notice it's getting dark. You fold your arms, feeling the cold biting your skin.

A dog barks in the distance.

"Have dinner with me -- with me and my dog."

"Is that your dog barking?"

"Yes, she's too lazy to come out with me to the beach. But she's back there lazing around my porch. I think she’s hungry now. She's a golden retriever."

You look in the direction of the dog's sound. "What's her name?"

"Mocca."

"Mocca?"

"Yes. that's the name of my first dog when I was a kid. She was a mongrel but looked just like a retriever so I had always thought I’d get a retriever when I grow up… I guess I’ve grown up!"

"Here Mocca!" you yelled towards my dog.

Mocca gets up on his feet, wags her tail at you, barks, then runs down the porch, onto the sand and towards me and you.

"She's never ran up to me when I call out to her from the beach. She hates getting sand on her paws! I can't believe you made her do that so easily!"

"I guess Mocca and I are friends already." You pat Mocca on the back appreciatingly, and Mocca is very pleased.

"So how about dinner with me and your new friend Mocca?" I ask, laughing.

"Hahaha, you're jealous of your dog?”

“Nah, she’s a great and loyal dog. So… dinner? I’ll make sure we have some really hot soup.”

“Yes, dinner sounds good."

* * *

Dinner was to be a steaming hot crabmeat soup, spicy buttered shrimp, and broccoli flowers in oyster sauce.

As I was seating you to your chair, you exclaim, "I can't believe you cooked all this!" Your eyes are the look of amazement.

"I cook these dishes a lot, and they're actually pretty quick to prepare. I'm relieved you didn't fall into sleep waiting."

"Well, Mocca was perfect company, and I enjoyed browsing through your books seeing that there wasn't much on TV."

"Here, have some soup."

After a few sips of the still steaming crabmeat soup, you say: "You seem to have a good number of books on the Kennedys?"

"Ah, yes. I am fascinated with the Kennedys so my books on them seem to have grown into a collection over the years."

"You did have a couple of the Clintons too, but why the Kennedys? Neither of us was even alive during JFK's time."

"Yes, and yet until now people still talk about the Kennedy's. Like recently, Sen. Ted Kennedy was reported to have a brain tumor and people were heralding it as the end of an era. And it still counted for much when JFK's daughter, Caroline Kennedy, endorsed Barack Obama as the Democratic candidate."

"Still, you're talking about American politics, but what does that have to do with you? You're not American; you're not even Democrat!"

"If I were American, I'd be a Democrat. I don't even need to be an American to be a Democrat. All it takes is the Republican Bush Jr. to make the whole world want to be a Democrat!"

Laughing out loud. "You have a point."

"Like the shrimp so far?"

"Oh, I always like shrimp. It's my favorite."

Why did I like the sound of you saying your favorite? I guess I was starting to like knowing things that pleases you -- and I’m glad you liked my shrimp! I wondered what else it is that makes you happy. I wondered what brought you back here. Why were you so concerned for the turtles?

I wanted to hear more about you.

* * *

After enjoying a delectable dinner, we settled into my couch with wine and glasses in our hands. There is nothing to see now of outside from my living room's glass windows. Nothing, but darkness. But we could still hear the wind 's faint whistle and the gentle waves rushing to shore.

"Sorry I ran out of dessert, but I hope this fine wine will make up for it." I said.

"That's ok. Your cooking was fantastic and I am too full to have anything more. For causing me to over-eat, I forgive you with this wine."

For a moment there I thought everything seemed to pause, the sounds muted, as I noticed your eyes glint as our glasses reflected the yellow glow of the lamps. I wasn't just looking at you. I was seeing you, perhaps in greater splendor than I may not have fully noticed beforehand.

You are radiant, and truly beautiful.

And I haven't even had a sip of wine.

"Shall you pour me that wine now?" you asked, and everything moves again -- the sounds crisp again.

"Yes, sorry for taking so long. Here..." and I pour us both a portion of red wine.

"You seem to be suddenly in a daze or something… Indigestion?" you ask, grinning.

"No, sorry, hahaha, something just… occurred to me."

"What is it?"

“No, nothing really… just a random thought…”

“Come on, tell me what it is. I like random…”

"Okay… I just thought that I... can't believe we're here together in my living room, enjoying wine, after having had a great dinner...”

“Yeah, I really enjoyed our dinner and our conversations, of course…”

“Exactly, we’re like, having the time of our lives, talking, laughing, having fun, like…”

“Like?” You were looking at me like you have anticipated what I am going to say next.

“Like we were old friends..."

Then you stop -- looked at me thoughtfully, and then said, "We are old friends... aren't we, Tristan?"

"Wha...what do you mean?" Does she remember?

"I know you, Tristan. I mean, I've heard so much about you. You are the little kid from the neighbor's house my parents used to tell me about. I didn't realize that was you until I saw those pictures from your study while you were preparing dinner."

"Huh? But I..." How could she know?

"Your parents and my parents were good friends... Even then we were neighbors. Your family had always remained here, while my family later sold the house beside this and moved elsewhere because of my dad's work. But my parent's hearts had always belonged to this place.”

“I thought you didn’t…” It was too long ago!

“They remember you -- the little kid who liked to visit me when I was born. They said you always ran to our house so early in the morning to play with me; and you liked giving me kisses.” You smiled as you said this. “They said I always stopped crying when you were around, and I never wanted to go to sleep either when you were in the house."

"I can't believe..." You were too young!

"Me either. We had pictures of you; my parents kept them and talked to me about you while I was growing up, so I remember every inch of that picture, every fold, every scratch, and especially every memory about that little boy in the picture."

Squeezing your hands. "Nayori..."

"When my mom died last year, I felt so lonely; I didn't have other siblings, and my dad had died when I was 23. One time I was looking through old photographs and out came falling a faded picture of you. And then the stories kept coming back... and since then I had wanted to come back to this place... wondering if the place was still around, hoping that somebody familiar would still be next door... Somehow that thought made feel like I wasn’t alone…" Then you cried.

"Your house had mostly been empty, except for summers. The ones who bought it before rarely came. I missed going inside that house. Then I heard it was sold to a new owner a month ago... and then now you came..."

"I had to buy it back. I needed to feel home again... and this had always been home for me with all the memories it carried. I never considered any other place we stayed in after as home... they never did feel like home. But when I bought the house back, when I saw the beach... everything felt... home."

"I thought you wouldn't remember... I knew the name Nayori... I was hoping it was you... I can't believe you're here... with me… now…"

"It's been more than 25 years..."

"The turtles... they too can take that much long... and yet they still come back to where they were born..."

"I guess that's why I have had an affinity for turtles... I have always had a yearning for home..."

And then, holding you closer, I plant a kiss in your forehead and softly, I say, "You're home now, Nayori. You’re home now."

* * *

“I've been lonely for so long,
Trapped in the past,
I just can't seem to move on…

All I want to do is find a way back into love,
I can't make it through without a way back into love.”
~ “Way Back Into Love”, Soundtrack, Music & Lyrics

Picture-perfect

My life is a dream, Alfred. The best dream anyone ever had.
~ Bruce Wayne, "Batman: The Animated Series."

Someday, while we’re visiting a park, or a beach, you’ll take a picture of me, and excitedly you’ll call out, “Tristan, look!”, while showing me your shot and you’ll say: “I like this picture of you.”

I’ll take a look, and I’ll say, “No, not that shot. My nose is too shiny.” Of course, I didn’t really think that; I always think your shots are great.

“It’s not shiny. It’s actually okay.” And you’ll laugh – that laughter that had always endeared me to you.

“How could you like that picture?” I ask.

“Because your smile is beautiful.”

I look at her. She looks at me.

“And I don’t mean just your lips,” she adds.

“What do you mean?” I say.

She looks at me. “It’s your eyes.”

Feigning a pout with a hint of amusement, “Hehe, don’t flatter me.”

“I mean it,” she says. And I believe her. She always means what she says.

While she continues to inspect the picture, I suggest, “How about the two of us in the picture, for a change?”

She thinks for a moment. “It’s hard to take pictures of us together; it’s a big camera, not a celfone.”

“I knew we should have brought a tripod…” Just then she spots an elevated flat surface that would do as a tripod. “Oh good, yes, put that down there and set the timer,” I said. She does, and quickly runs to where I am standing, and, posing, I nonchalantly put my arms around her.

We smile.

The camera clicks.

We walk towards the camera, to check out our shot, but I never take off my arm around her. She notices, but doesn’t say a word, and smiles a bit. She lifts the camera, my arms still on her shoulders, our bodies as close together than we’ve ever been -- and she shows me our picture.

“I love that picture,” I said.

“Me too,” she says, her face lit up, gazing at me. I’m smiling at her.

My arms still over her shoulder, she quietly settles her arm around my waist. Not another word is spoken. She leans her head on my shoulder. And we walk on, our strides in synch, quiet, and comfortable, and looking forward to more picture-perfect shots of the two of us together.

The Men’s Health All-Terrain Race

First off, thanks to my brother Majar for agreeing to drive me so early in the morning to San Mateo, Rizal so I can get to the race.

June 15, 2008. I only started for sleep a little past midnight, and it was really forcing sleep because I am used to sleeping at 3AM. When I finally got up at 4:30AM, it was a relief from trying very hard to sleep.

This is to be my first race for the year. I signed up for the Market!Market! 5-Mile Marathon last May 18, but didn’t get to go because of that nasty storm Cosme. Anyway, waking up this early, and lacking in sleep, I had a thought that crazy runners more often than not still ask themselves once in a while: “What in the world am I thinking?”

But the urge to run is stronger than any such doubts. By 5AM I was ready to go, but my brother still wasn’t, and we got to leave only by 5:30AM. I needed to be at the race site by 6AM if I wanted to hear the stretching-and-exercise tips and the runthrough of the rules. The race actually begins at 6:30AM.

It was like a scene from The Amazing Race, with me reading the map and my brother doing the driving. None of us had purposely been to San Mateo, Rizal before, so this was really going to be a challenge. Could we make it on time?

We navigated through Sandoval Avenue, Mercedes Avenue, Pasig Boulevard Extension, Ortigas Avenue, E. Amang Rodriguez Avenue, Marcos Highway, J.P. Rizal Avenue, E. Rodriguez Avenue, got lost around here and eventually found ourselves in Bayan-Bayanan Avenue, then back to J.P. Rizal, on to San Mateo in Gen. Antonio Luna Avenue, then right to a tiny road with a sign that says “Timberland Heights”, and a few minutes of uphill roads with myriad signs pointing us in the direction of the race, and we were at the race site inside Timberland Heights.

Timecheck: 10 minutes before race starts.

There were plenty of runners already, and several bikers too, as there was also a bike race. I saw my friend Tricia, the Studio 23 sportscaster, and she was pleasantly surprised to see me. I was happy to see someone I knew, because none of those I invited were up to the challenge (hehe!). Unsurprisingly, she was also going to do the bike race after the trail run. I told her, “Yeah, I’m sure this is peanuts to you coz you’ve done the full Ironman.” She laughs, but says she had just come from Europe so she hasn’t really had much training. I’ll find out soon enough that she doesn’t really need all that much training.

All runners have assembled at the starting line. Many were wearing the black Men’s Health All-Terrain Race shirt we were given, like I was. I noticed others were wearing shirts of their choice, some wisely wearing white. I wondered why Men’s Health chose black for a shirt when it’s definitely going to be a scorching race (black absorbs heat). And they should have made it sleeveless too, I thought.

One minute til gunfire. My brother had to rush to the car to get me my chocolate bar. I realized I hadn’t taken anything. I even forgot to stretch! (though I did stretch at 5AM while waiting for my brother to get ready) Before you know it, the starting gun has been fired, and we were like a throng of bulls charging out of a cage.

OK, Tristan, you’re going to run a good race, you’re going to enjoy this, you’re going to make a respectable finish. You’re going to soak up the scenery, you’re going to have fun.

I was telling myself that as I was taking my first few strides. In a way, that was also my prayer.

OK, remember Tristan, you are not here to be the fastest runner, you’re not here to be faster than that guy or lady who just went past you. You are here with a plan, you will stick to your plan - which is to pace yourself. Don’t get pressured by the many others who seem to be zipping by, they will get tired too, and when you stick to your pace, you will catch up to them later and even zoom past them.

I have learned the pitfalls of trying to run as fast as the next person, or keeping pace with everybody at the start of the race. Everybody runs fast in the beginning. They’re all excited, they all have so much energy. And it’s tempting to join them because otherwise they make you look like you’re gonna end up last. But I have learned from my past races. When I have found my pace, I will catch up to them; because they will tire easily (especially if they’re not serious runners, hehe!), they will need to catch their breath too; and with my steady pace, they will find me sidling up to them later, and I will be running with a consistent pace, while they shall be starting and stopping every once in a while.

Thank you, God, for letting me run this race

It’s indeed the only race of it’s kind in the country, not that I’ve ran many, but that’s what Men’s Health Philippines say. And they may be right, because I have not heard of other trail runs in the country, and – the scenes here are definitely breathtaking.

This is Timberland Heights in San Mateo, Rizal. Timberland Heights is a community development of Filinvest Land. From what I saw, I think this place is a good place to live in. I can’t believe we have anything like this that is close to Manila. From up here, you could see all of the metropolis within your purview (that is, Quezon City, Ortigas, Makati, Fort, Roxas Blvd.) and I don’t think you could get this good a view even from Antipolo. Not only that, on the other side of the site, you could see mountains as far as the eye can see, like suddenly you’re as far away as possible from the city. (Disclosure: I am a real estate broker, but I am not selling this project, so this is not a sales pitch. Then again, if you want to buy in here, I can help. Hehe!)

As beautiful as the scenes were, so were our trail as varied. We ran on cemented roads, we ran on asphalt roads. We ran on cake muddy paths, we ran on dry rocky roads. We ran on red soil, we ran on gray gravel. We ran inside forest cover, we ran in open road. We ran in the sun, we ran in the shade. We ran on windless trails, we ran on paths with full bursts of wind. And that’s not mentioning the many permutations when you consider the slopes up or down, and the varied degrees of steepness of those slopes.

I trained on flat roads, so I was always praying for those in this race, and whenever I was on them, my run was a breeze. The 3 tiny hills in Legaspi Park certainly could not prepare me at all for the steepness of these slopes. Not being trained on them, my legs easily got tired in the climbs up. Careful not to injure my knees, I had to slow myself running downhill paths, even as it was tempting to get all the help from gravity.

The organizers promised 4 drinking stations distributed along the trail, and thank God they actually put up 5. Because the new Rush Fitness Drink was a major sponsor of the race, we helped ourselves to them in most of the 5 stops. (Note: Rush is just like Gatorade, only less sweet, which is good, and also cheaper by 11 pesos. Hehe, I am a grateful patron.)

I only trained on 10K runs, so I know this was going to be an extra challenge because this was a 12K course, not to mention that it was a trail run. I didn’t know what to expect as to how long I would finish the race, so I was relieved when I saw a sign that we had only 5K remaining, at a point in the race when I thankfully still wasn’t feeling tired yet or bored. The variety of the course certainly left no room for boredom. And I was feeling lucky as my feet, legs or knees have not shown signs of weariness.

At 3K to the finish line I think was the low point of the race when I saw many runners, myself included, already just walking. The last few kilometers of trail have certainly given our legs a beating, so it was understandable people were trying to rest their legs a bit by walking a few meters, before we all go for the assault of the next 2K.

The last 2K was the best, as finally there was wind greeting all of us on our way down the steepest run of the race. This was where I had to be most careful as I didn’t want to shock my knee joints with the force of these steep downhill run. Still it was so steep that gravity let me run faster than I know my knees were used to.

Finally, the last 1K, and how fitting that the panoramic view of the metropolis was what would welcome our eyes close to the finish line. I could now see the finish line not too far ahead, and I’m thinking, Woohoo! I’m almost done!

Near the finish line, I was looking for my brother who is supposed to take pictures of my finish. I see him, and he was looking elsewhere that I had to wave to him, and laughing that everybody had to see I was shamelessly asking for a photo. So instead of a dramatic shot, I must have been laughing in my picture.

I crossed the finish line, still smiling, and with a time of 1 hour 27 minutes. Not bad, I thought. My best time on a 10K run on a flat course is about 1 hour, or 6 mins/kilometer. So this being 12K, my time should be 1 hour 12 minutes, and so the extra 15 minutes could be explained by the nature of the trail. I’m optimistic that when I run this trail again next year, my time will be better.

The best part about reaching the finish line was the really ice-cold bottle of Rush that we were given. It felt really good. And having done my run according to plan, I’m glad my body was still in good shape and I was in good spirits. I can’t be more thankful.

Next up was the bike race. We lingered a bit til the bike race started, and then, with other things to do for the day, my brother and I left without waiting for the bike race to finish nor for the awarding of prizes. Maybe I won, maybe not (likely not, hehe); but finishing the race well and satisfied was the best prize I knew I already got.

Giant erasers on my feet

"My running shoes have become giant erasers on my feet.
Every foot strike rubs away some memory
of a previous indiscretion, failure, hurt, pain...
Every successful mile releases me from the grip of the demons of failure.
Every starting line is another chance to prove
that my past will not determine my future."
~ John "The Penguin" Bingham

I had just come from a short Monday night run with two good friends at Legaspi Park. It was my first time to run at Legaspi Park as, usually, I’d run in Buendia to EDSA and back, or at Salcedo Park, or at the Ayala Triangle, or, so I don’t get bored, a combination of any of those routes.

I have always been a runner. When I was younger I’d run in the beach in the morning as we lived close to the beach (the secret to my eternal tan, hehe!). In college, I ran around the Acad Oval at U.P. Diliman, usually at close to midnight, with pauses and stretches infront of the Oblation. When I began working, and especially when I started to gain weight, I started to run around Makati to get back into shape.

2 years ago, and because my Royal Sinigang Mountaineers group (RSM, woohoo!) decided we’d be climbing Mt. Pulag, we took to running to prepare ourselves physically. That was the start of my doing more disciplined running, and taking it to the next level by joining a real marathon. We prepared by running in Makati, in Roxas Boulevard and even at the ULTRA tracks. And so it was in 2006 that with RSM, I ran my first 10K marathon with the 2^nd International Pasig River Marathon and another 10K with the 1^st Pinay In Action marathon, and then another 10K the year after in the 3^rd International Pasig River Marathon.

I had decided I would run a 42K marathon in 2007, and I did train for it, but only got myself as far as 15K during training, with that training consisting of 5AM runs at the Mall of Asia. And then I stopped abruptly when I injured my right leg, perhaps for pushing myself too hard.

So many other things have overtaken my goal of running the 42K, that it is almost a year after (and 9 lbs later), that I resurrect that goal of mine.

I have never fully understood the allure of running to me, why I do it, what I get from it, aside from the feel good endorphins and the obvious health benefits. I guess I like running for the chance that it allows me (1) to spend time alone, (2) to listen to my thoughts, and yes, (3) to not have thoughts for a change.

But I have never fully grasped what running truly means until I read that quote from John Bingham which sincerely speaks to me at this time in my life.

Maybe there is indeed something about every stride that takes you further away from memories you wish you could just forget. Maybe there is something about every bead of sweat that purges you of whatever cannot be shed with tears. Maybe there is something about every sore muscle or bruised feet that numbs whatever gnawing pain that resides in your heart -- a part of you that no amount of rest or icepack can reach to soothe or heal.

Whether you run 5K or 10K, 21K or 42K, it doesn’t matter. As long as you get the running started, you know you are getting somewhere, moving further from where you are, erasing the past away as the rubber burns, moving closer to the future as the muscles sore.

Closer to the future. The future may be uncertain, but knowing that you are moving closer to it -- that’s an optimistic thought.

I have often dreamed, of a far off place
Where a hero’s welcome, would be waiting for me
Where the crowds will cheer, when they see my face
And a voice keeps saying, this is where I’m meant to be...
--“Go the Distance”, Soundtrack, Hercules

Hello, young lovers

Hello young lovers, whoever you are,

I hope your troubles are few.

All my good wishes go with you tonight,

I've been in love like you.

~ The King and I

Recently, I had a chance to work with a group of young leaders aged between 14 to 17 years old. It was great being around the young. They made me feel young (because of their infectious energy) and at the same time made me self-consciously old (because they use po on you, and they do look like little kids to me, even if they were already mostly college bound).

I was having an amusing time observing the “kids”. One boy, his name is Jom, and a girl, named Elie, I thought looked good together. (Hehe, I hope none of them gets to read this.) Jom is younger as he was a highschool junior, and Elie was already (I think) an incoming college freshman. Still they looked like they’d make a good pair. I don’t know if I noticed their chemistry already before Jom could realize he actually liked Elie. They had some activities where they unavoidably had to get close physically (it was a teambuilding), and I noticed (or maybe I projected) that Jom was relishing the closeness with Elie. He seemed to be enjoying it too much, and Elie was either oblivious, or trying not to appear too conscious. When they weren’t looking, I’d smile at the sight of them. Could I be seeing the birth of young love? I thought to myself. How cute, right? Heehee!

And then I thought how nice to experience that again, falling in love, in the freshest, most innocent manner that the young discover love to be, even if through their rose-colored glasses. Of course, being grown, I know that love isn’t just all that fresh and innocent anymore, and it takes more than magic, in fact, it isn’t magic! (ok, I am jaded), yet I realized that however cynical we can be, we still long for that first taste of love that is promising, that for a little while at least you believe, that it will actually last forever. (Ok, I am only sounding jaded for literary effect. Hehe!)

I don’t know if Elie and Jom will actually hit it off from thereon, though I did notice Jom’s persistence at getting Elie’s number at the end of the session. If he’s that persistent, then maybe something sweet shall be borne of this.

I wish them well.

Be brave, young lovers, and follow your star,

Be brave and faithful and true,

Cling very close to each other tonight.

I've been in love like you.