Can You ‘Find Yourself’ By Travelling?

Travel triggers a change in our outlook: from goal-directed to present-moment. It’s not literally the experience of novelty, but the way we open ourselves up when we’re travelling. Travel is a state of mind. We leave our routine to observe, experiment and come back with stories that we could tell. There is, of course, a…

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To You: Whom They Called A Strong Woman

They called you a strong woman. Because you’re independent, and always seem to be so confident going about your days by yourself. Because you seem fine all the time. Because you’re the one taking charge when everything goes out of line, and making it all once again calm. Because you’re the one that keeps trying…

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10 Years of Blogging and Being Here.

I WAS 17, typing away from my desktop computer in my room from 7 pm to 3 am, non-stop. The fan was blowing to keep the CPU from overheating. We didn’t have an air conditioning unit back then. I typed letters I would never sent, grammatically incorrect short stories in English, angry poems, sad poems, almost-love poems, teenage novellas and…

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Mount Bromo and the Price of Happiness

What is the actual price of ‘happiness’? PHOTO BY NICO WIJAYA. IT was 2.30 in the morning when I jumped into a red jeep heading to Mount Bromo. I was still a bit sleepy, but excited nonetheless. There is something about the mountains that never fails to envelope me in a certain sense of wonder and serenity. I…

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How To Love.

Love by knowing that everything is temporary. Love by knowing that it will not last forever. Love by knowing that it could be the first and the last, the best and the worst, the only one or another one. Love by knowing that nothing is permanent. Love by knowing that this moment can make and break the rest….

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Why I Write.

I write because sometimes it’s just too complicated to tell everything to anyone. I write because in my darkest days, I do not even feel like seeing anyone–let alone talking to them. I write because I think people won’t understand. I write because I don’t think I can fully trust anyone. I write because I…

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Stepping Up To My Plate.

It was late afternoon, and we were sitting at a nook in our Parisian hotel room, looking at a wall fully decorated with beautiful painted plates. “I’m going to eat on that one,” I pointed at a plate with a painting of a cat on it. “Which one would you prefer?” He looked at me as…

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