It Is You, All Along

The windows on my left barely touched the roof, but the width was as broad as this room. From the lights that came through the slit between the thin purple curtains, I believed it was morning. Or perhaps in the middle of the day. I wasn’t sure.

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Come Back Home

I open the window when the car is passing in between the rice fields. The coconut trees grow in sparse. I breathe in the cold air solemnly; let it touches the wall of my lungs and muffling my heartbeat. I start to remember when my little sister and I played with the water buffalos there. I really miss those moments. The moment when I was still innocent and did not lapse into the polemic of real world.

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