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 on the chest harder than ever, as if a swarm of timpanists were clashing the drums and fighting between themselves. I still ignored it until the ordinary beat became a frenetic, perpetual rhythm.
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.