I don't want to miss a thing

There is a certain thrill in knowing you are expected. A familiar face, waiting at the airport, at the railway station, just for you to know they knew you were coming, knew you had luggage (or not) and just wanted to give a hand, make a stand, make sure you knew they cared. I am always so glad when somebody waits for me – and keep looking out of the window when I arrive to Bucharest, in remembrance of earlier days, when my grandpa or my mother or my father would come pick me up at the railway station. In more recent times, I remember people dear to me who would wait for me, hug me and then take me home. Nowadays there usually is nobody there to fetch me, so I take the subway and try not to get depressed by the grey stations and bored faces of people.

Still it is my secret wish there were somebody there to wait for me - to be my home and give me the feeling that the journey was not in vain, that at its end they were there, waiting, smiling, knowing...

you are the afterglow
you are the midnight show
the only one i know
you come and then you go
and when you finally leave
you leave nothing for me
(Travis, Afterglow)