“All that shimmers in this world is sure to fade away again…”
– Shimmer by Fuel –

“Flames to dust, lovers to friends. Why do all good things come to an end?”
– All Good Things by Nelly Furtado –

The flight was delayed for an uncertain period of time. I tried to start reading the novel Dead Poet Society, a novel I’ve been craving for. But I could not concentrate on the pages. I was too tired. A few minutes after the plane took off, half-an-hour late from the schedule, I fell asleep immediately.

He walked through a thin mist, and stood in front of me. Behind him was a view of a country I could barely recognize. He had gained some weights, but he looked charming as usual. The view behind him instantly changed into a busy airport, and he was wearing a neat pilot uniform. However, when he started to talk, we were strolling along a strange beach with lots of banyan tree growing on its shore.

“I’m going home,” he told me in a casual tone.
“But I’ve just arrived,” I said, feeling a bit hurt.
“Why don’t you come along with me?” he asked.
“Why don’t you stay here with me?” I hesitated.

The pilot told us that we were about to reach Jakarta in a few minutes. I yawned a few times, then gazed outside the cabin window. The night sky was tinted with distant flashes of lightning. Down there, the city was gleaming with white and yellow lights. Even in my dreams, I argue with him. Probably this is the reason why we have never crossed path.

Once, in a brief journey, he walked beside me as we traveled the road together. But at one point, the road became to narrow. So I decided to let him walk in front of me. For him to lead the way. But he walked too fast, and I could not follow him. I cried out for him to wait for me, to slow down, but he couldn’t hear me. His back was the last thing I saw before his silhouette got swallowed by the dusk.

Was it true that he walked too fast, that day?
My eyes got teary when I realized that it might not be the case. Came to think about it, I guessed he was sick of the journey as much as I did, and intentionally trying to run away from me.


2 Responses

  1. Weleh.. weleh…

    Why don’t look at the other end, the other corner of the street, perhaps it’s a new beginning for you…?

    Just a thought… [nyambung nggak sih? mudah-mudahan nyambung :p]

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We tend to shape our memories of them based on the limited time we spend with them—and our memories of them, over time, will be replaced with one single word, one single interaction, or one single feeling.
Beradadisini Love Letter to Self
I took up a personal journaling project this week: writing a love letter to myself before bed. I work on a thin A6-size handmade paper journal I got from a paper artist, Els. The journal is thin and small enough, so it doesn't overwhelm me. It feels like I am only going to work on a small project.
Standing up for yourself does not have to look aggressive. It does not have to feel like a fight. It's not always about convincing others or explaining yourself and your decisions with the hope that everyone else understands or accepts your choice.
Hanny illustrator
I am an Indonesian writer/artist/illustrator and stationery web shop owner (Cafe Analog) based in Amsterdam, the Netherlands. I love facilitating writing/creative workshops and retreats, especially when they are tied to self-exploration and self-expression. In Indonesian, 'beradadisini' means being here. So, here I am, documenting life—one word at a time.