It is…
… astonishing…
… numbing, to find…
… that inside you there is a stranger.
One that has your…
… arms…
… your legs…
… your eyes.
A sleepless, restless stranger…
… who keeps walking…
… keeps eating…
… keeps…
… living.
***
– There is no going back
to that other person…
… that other place.
This thing, this stranger…
… she is all you are now.
+ Let me ask you a question.
Just us.
How did you…
…pull it back together
after what happened to you?
– You don’t.
+ I’m sorry.
– No, no.
– Jacked-up question, man.
– It’s a fair question. You…
You become someone else.
A stranger.
+ You must have loved him very much.
– Yeah.
+ Sometimes that just makes it harder,
you know. You just wish you didn’t.
it is horrible…
…to fear the place you once loved.
And to see a street corner
you knew so well…
…and be afraid of its shadow.
To see familiar steps,
be unable to climb them.
I never understood
how people lived with fear.
Women afraid to walk home alone…
…people afraid of…
…white powder in their mailbox…
…darkness and night.
People afraid of people.
I always believed that fear
belonged to other people.
Weaker people.
It never touched me.
And then it did.
And when it touches you, you know…
…that it’s been there all along…
…waiting beneath the surfaces
of everything you loved.
And your skin crawls…
…and your heart sickens…
…and you look at the person you once were
walking down that street…
…and you wonder, will you?
Will you ever be her again?
stories of a city…
… that is disappearing before our eyes.
Its people swept over…
So, what will be left of those stories?
Are we going to have to construct an
imaginary city to house our memories?
Because when you love something,
every time a bit of it goes…
… you lose a piece of yourself.
a piece of yourself..
The legendary Es Campur Pa Oyen, since 1989,
Pasar Kosambi Bandung, Indonesia
#Hometownglory
(Agustus 2012)
Menemukan lagi serpihan remah harta karun di antara lembaran buku-buku..
Betapa kata, waktu, punya daya sihirnya sendiri, an..
Warna-warni hasil bumi di pasar pagi, 5 hari menjelang Idul Fitri
In between. A little crescent moon. Far. Away. Before the break-fasting moment.
Killing time number 45
(Juli 2012)
Hometown Glory. Siang. Biru Langit. Sejuk angin.
Dingin Air. Sunyi. Hening. Heaven.
Silence. Where the streets have no name..
(Juli 2012)
Senja itu
kita di sini, an
memandang langit yang pernah seperti ini
seperti kita yang tak pernah sederhana
(Agustus 2012)
Matahari, Langit, Bumi Manusia 