Dido

Take My Hand At first it's just him, in a vast complex of hallways, slumped in the middle, crying heartrendingly. His head is down so one can't see his face, yet his back is arched and slender, yet strong, clothed in a soft, slim-fitting black sweater, black pants and boots. His hair is shaggy and perfect, a sort of auburn color, framing his face, not hiding the silver of his earrings. He is devastated. Touch my skin…and tell me what you're thinking….

The sweet voice and image of a girl fills his head, her straight, marigold hair cut to right above her shoulders, and tied back in two ponytails. She's wearing a blue dress, looking so content in the sterile, dome-shaped room, and although she's singing, no music backs her up, only an odd, euphoric, machine like sort of sound. He lifts his head out of surprise, his awfully handsome face stained with tears that blotch his green eyes, and the cross at his neck shakes a bit from his sudden movements.

Take my hand…and show me where we're going….

She closes her eyes, lowering her head in a heartfelt manner, moving her hand slowly up to her neck, to pull out a locket that hid beneath her dress. She clasps, and then stares up piercingly as the few notes of a guitar strum. He continues to stare.

Lie down next to me…

She tilts her head ardently, placing her hands on a seat that only just appeared before her.

Look into my eyes,

She now brings her chin up, on the verge of a smile.

And tell me, oh tell me what you're seeing.

She turns around now, on some sort of sofa, facing away and leaning back, tilting her head while still in the song. The guitar and the odd sounds play beside each other.

So sit on top of the world…and tell me how you're feeling….

She looks toward him, in a sideways glance, almost grinning, yet unmoving from her position, which is her arms supporting her body up, with the rest of her resigned. The boy has stopped crying, placing his arms firmly on the ground in preparation to do something…yet he's not sure what.

What you feel…

She tips her head, passion streaming from her eyes.

Is what I feel for you.

She lowers her head as she sings this, turning around to lean on her elbows. The view of her image is straight in front of her again.

Take my hand

She lifts her eyes up, staring at him with something resembling total realization.

And if I'm lying to you,

She turns her head slightly, still looking at him, and cocks an eyebrow.

I'll always be alone, if I'm lying to you.

She nods her head with a promise, before the sounds take over, and she fades away.

Realizing what he must do now, as the low notes of the guitar play, he stands. He becomes fascinated in his clarity—but of all the hallways—the hundreds of hallways—he knows where to go. Ignoring wider ones or more inviting ones, he picks a long, silver and green metallic corridor, one eventually leading to a vacated lobby, and moves surprisingly in a steadfast pace. His eyes look like they cannot fathom this.

The music picks up as his walk becomes more steady, confident, and a little faster. He is extremely handsome when not in desolation. Quicker and quicker his step becomes. A riff of an orchestra plays a downward scale, and immediately—

See my eyes…they carry your reflection….

She points to her eyes, full of love and coaxing, as her other hand rests lightly on the white furniture. Her irises glaze over as she pays full attention to him, unblinking and faintly smiling.

Watch my lips, and hear the words I'm telling you.

She trails a finger across the rim of her lower lip, and slowly brings her hand to brush her cheek, tilting her head into it.

Give your trust, to me…

Her expression becomes pleading, almost on the verge of zealous tears.

And look into my heart,

She shakes her head slowly as she lifts her chin, wanting him to heed her words.

And show me, and show me what you're doing.

She lowers it back to its original place, becoming suddenly calm again, this time giving a full on, beautiful smile.

So sit on top of the world, and tell me how you're feeling.

Her voice doubles as she is standing and singing toward the ground, her image being multiplied to four or five of her, transparent.

What you feel, is what I feel for you.

She lifts her head up to look at him, her images doing the same.

Take my hand

She becomes loud and booming, clenching her fists and laughing with her eyes as he's running now, billowing into the lobby.

And if I'm lying to you,

He heads toward a series of escalators, streaming up into more hallways, yet they are fewer than what he started with. His face takes on a look of total confidence, yet vicious concentration.

I'll always be alone…if I'm lying to you.

He dashes up the escalators, practically ripping through the air.

Take your time

She raises her eyes up to his view again, her images hard to see yet still present, as her voice is multiplied in different octaves.

And if I'm lying to you

She looks off into the distance, at her right.

I know you'll find

She looks back at his vision, and nods.

That you'll believe me.

Her line is repeated three or four times and fades as he runs down selected hallways, searching passionately. The orchestra plays again and then riffs scales as he sees a large glass room. He grabs a lone chair in the hallway and, seeing what's inside, begins to bash it against the windows in rhythm with the music. It's so unwavering that he does it several times, harshly, with all the strength his resolute figure can call on, and when he hits it quicker and stronger, when the orchestra gets faster, his face hung with obsession and pain, pain of getting through, it finally breaks.

Feel the sun…

One image again, and close-up to his view, she tilts her head down, almost melancholy. He is inside the room, clung to her unmoving form, her eyes shut and hair disheveled.

On your face…

She lifts her chin up to look at him. He shakes her form, not surrendering his hold on her, and whispers ardently in her ear.

And tell me…what you're thinking.

She almost smiles, shaking her head. He's already picking her up, running back down the hallway, to a different direction this time, looking left and right before choosing in a great crossroad of hallways.

Catch the snow

Her hand is held out, fingers slightly curled, snowflakes from nowhere on her palm as she grins at him, back on the furniture, her other hand leaning back for support.

On your tongue…

He breaks through a series of double doors, intent on hurrying so quickly to his destination, wrapping her up even more strongly in his arms.

And show me…how it tastes.

She lifts her chin and the snow floats back up, through a ray of light, as she watches it, and silently turns toward him. Her voice fades into a computer sort of sound, and then a guitar takes over.

He rushes into an aircraft, large but not overwhelming, as the door shuts straight behind them. As the fires ignite beneath the plane to take off, he collapses on the floor, as all else fails, and covers her mouth with his.

Take your time…

Her hand starts to move, yet he doesn't notice. Another frozen second of a guitar emulates their scene.

Take my hand

She opens her eyes slowly, very slowly, peering into his still shut ones.

And if I'm lying to you,

She continues to watch him.

I'll always be alone, if I'm lying to you.

The corners of her mouth go up in the hint of a smile, and she closes her eyes again to kiss him back.

Take your time

He opens his eyes with shock and pulls away, as she looks up at him quietly, grinning.

And if I'm lying to you, I know you'll find

He rests his eyes on her a moment, and then breaks to a smile.

That you'll believe me…

The chorus continues to play as she sits up, as they lean in to kiss again, slow and everlasting, for what that feels like in a minute. The aircraft takes off and away from the building, and her image now merges with her true self.