They had great time together.
They got drunk together.
They liked each other from first sight.

The night turned hot
They both turned hot
It was her place they went.

She didn't like it.
The following day, her boyfriend didn't like it.
She regretted it.

He didn't like it either.
But he was a rape victim.
Now he is in jail.

I’m often asked about my name.
There are two Japanese characters pronounced 'Ran'. The first one means orchid,

the second means chaos,

The rest is for you to guess.

In an interview with Alain Robert, the human spider, who has climbed, unprotected, many of the tallest towers in the world, he claimed that it’s much easier to climb the towers than to get the license to climb them.

This is true in many areas, and it made me wonder if the true role of our democratic institutions is to promote and establish mediocrity.

The answer, quite surprisingly, is that you should always open the box you did not chose originally. There are many ways to view this problem.

When you first select the red, there is 33% that the prize is there, and 66% that it is in one of the other two. So as soon as you know that the prize is not in the green, it leaves you with 66% that it’s in the blue. So by opening the blue box, you have twice the chance to win the prize. You don’t believe me, play for yourself and see: http://www.nytimes.com/2008/04/08/science/08monty.html#

What an amazing place he chose for a date, she barely hears her thoughts rising above the sound of her heartbeat. With sweaty palms, from her hiding place behind the heavy curtain, she dials his number she knows so well. Not that it’s her first blind date; not at all. But she has no doubt that he is the very right one. For months they have revealed to each other their deepest secrets and desires, all but one thing. As she had always fallen for looks, always for the wrong person, this time she insisted that their looks had to remain secret. That is, until today, their first date. In trembling hand she presses the dial button, looking whose phone it will be. She hears a phone ringing, her favourite melody. She can barely see his face in the shimmering candle light in the far corner, but he is short, too short. Not at all what she had in mind she realises as she steps out, hoping that next time it would be a tall man that answers her ad looking for an intelligent good listener man for a true friendship.

I know you think you understand what you thought I said, but I don’t think you realize that what you heard was not what I meant.

You have three boxes, red, green and blue. £1000 cash prize is put in one them, the other two remain empty. You are asked to choose one and put it aside without opening it. You choose the red and put it aside.

Then you are asked to choose another and open it. You choose the green, and open it, but the prize is not there.

As the organisers of the event are kind at heart, they give you one more chance. You can either open the one you put aside first (the red) or the one you never chose (the blue). Which one will you open? Does it matter?

There was a woman wife of doctor,
who was known to be most proper.
She always wore the latest fashion,
and was the best at conversation.
Her words were kind with no aggression,
even when she felt depression.

She never gave the wrong impression,
not even at the heights of passion.
Did she feel it? No one knew,
it wasn’t question to review.
Unlike the charity donation,
it wasn’t proper conversation,

She didn’t think nor did she dare
to ask herself if she did care,
or what her partner thought of it,
not having seen her naked bit.
Respect she got, was often flattered,
but not from those who really mattered.

She kept on smiling when her partner,
for lack of passion, left for other.
She was respected, but alone
craving some touch,
she was no stone.

But will she learn to get it right
to touch, to feel, to follow heart?
Or will she age with great regret,
of putting life on losing bet?

There is little doubt that the Burma cyclone is a large scale humanitarian disaster, even if not so many British were amongst its victims. We have always been much more affected when learning about individual’s tragedies. But just like many other animals, we don’t seem to have the ability to distinguish when numbers gets too big. Yet, we must never forget that despite this inability a thousand deaths are still one thousand individual tragedies.

I know that if aid will not reach the people in the next few days, the death tool may be ten times as large. Yet I did not yet donate to Burma.

Unlike previous disasters such as India or Indonesia, where I knew that despite the great corruption, at least some of the aid money would reach those in need, I have no such belief that this will happen in Burma.

Most of us in the West tend to superficially believe that life of the citizens is of some concern to the regime. However, in big parts of the world this is not the case. Such regimes see people as the means of making the rulers richer and more powerful, nothing more. They welcome disasters, as weak people are less of a threat, and if money also pours in, what can be better? Two birds with one stone.

I believe that any money donated will not reach those in need, but will only strengthen a regime of horror. So as much as my heart aches, quieting my consciousness by claiming ignorance is not the way to go. It’s our politician and government that must push the Myanmar government to allow aid workers in, and open channels by which emergency supplies will reach those in need. Then I will donate.

It’s not the cheap beauty that sells magazines by the millions; but whenever she floats by, leaving a scent that awakes long forgotten legends, no man can resist turning his head for a second look of admiration. If you are amongst the lucky with whom she exchanged a few words, it’s not unusual that you will not remember her words, but only your own yarning to see her eyes smile, even if only for a flash of fantasy that fades into a short sigh of realization that a goddess is beyond your reach. Yet, nearly every night you will find her in the little corner pub, on her own. Because only when she drinks, can she care about those meaningless words of those whose heavy drinking instilled enough confidence in their hearts to approach her. Only when she drinks can she finds them interesting enough to cope with a night of lonely lust, from which she hopes to wake up in an empty bed. They often stay too long.

A woman of talent and perfection; tonight you will find her again in the little corner pub, drinking, hoping that this will be her last night there.

Back
Back
Back

Where have I been?
Round the world
Twice
Lots of Heathrow airport

The world is not so big when you travel it fuelled by airline meals

What did I miss?