The tip of her finger paused of tracing the words. Her heart refused to take a dash of air. ‘It smells awful’, she said. She couldn’t help but wonder whether the filthy breeze was assorted among the dusts, dirts and mold, or just originated from a stench of death at the corner of the room.
Dawn came with a dreary gray, ominous without a sign of warning. Until the clouds gradually cracked into a half, exposing the radiant of the sun light, he still did not care.
Kutundukkan kepala, mendesah beribu kali menandingi sepoi angin yang berlalu-lalang. Seharusnya aku berucap syukur, bukannya mengobar hati dengan segala rindu yang selalu menusuk-nusuk kepalaku.
Again, I felt the same pulse.
It thumped me up, right on my chest, stronger than before, as if a throng of timpanists clashed the drums and create a battle among themselves. I always ignored it until the beat of ordinary turned to be frenetic, perpetual sound. Restless, unease, they shrouded me in anxiety. Something’s missing in me since the dreadful ordeal took them away, both who I loved―mom and dad. Something dark; something hollow; which began to harass inside my head and distracted my consciousness. And I haven’t figured it out. Not yet.
I just need to take a moment to look at some portraits: Kuningan, Cirebon, Jakarta, Bali. All those beauties, hustle and bustle, immediately disassembles the wall of dread and loneliness. Tanah air is my other half, my sunlight and the moonlight.