as the shadow lit the colors around, as it revealed the form of a picture.
We watched the sun went down together. Suddenly became paralysed by its warmth. He said nothing, me neither. Sank in deep thoughts and tough, drowned into a heaped of past and lasts.
…and I started to count, very softly through my breath, as the light slowly went down, showing the shape of the island which was hiding beneath.
1, 2, 3 ….
“Tak ada satu hal pun tanpa bayang-bayang, kecuali terang itu sendiri.”
— Pramoedya Ananta Toer, Child of All Nations.
Some say dark is the most beautiful thing, some also fear to be left by the light. Frightened, insecurity, sorrow—they live in the darkness, with the shadow shrouds their back, haunts them like the Angel of Death.
It is sad, for some people. But there is always a good thing.
In this week photo’s challenge, show us tiny. Capture something at a smaller scale.
I, normally, am not a huge fan of sweets. But those little ones always remind me of my little sister. She said that the sweet one would boost her mood, to be much happier and full of excitement.
I bought it only for decoration on our fall-alike dining table—even though a “big bear” always steals it at the end. But it is nice to have it there, with those colors mix up with the flowers and candles.
In response of Daily Post’s Photo Challenge: “Tiny“
Tiap kali kutilik layar itu, rasanya seperti kehidupan yang lalu, jauh sebelum kuingat lagi kapan terakhir kali kusentuh dengan ujung jemariku sendiri.
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.
Dan, salahkan aku karena hingga saat ini aku belum sepenuhnya menolak untuk menoleh ke balik bahuku. Mungkin ia tak ingin ditinggalkan, mungkin ia tak ingin kutinggalkan.
Sengaja kusembunyikan seluruh jemariku di dalam saku, melindungi kuku-kuku kecilku dari udara musim gugur yang mulai menyatu dengan dingin dari utara. Kereta berikutnya belum juga berada dalam jangkauan, maka kuhabiskan waktuku dengan mengetuk-ngetuk hak sepatu di atas lapisan porselin berkualitas—sementara kubiarkan bangku kosong di belakangku dihuni oleh ibu tua berambut pirang bersama affenpinscher yang masih terbilang muda.
Seolah berada di antara tiang-tiang Patron 3/4, ada semacam koneksi yang menjembataniku dengan Stasiun Jakarta
Tidak, aku tidak sedang berada di Stasiun Jakarta. Tempat ini jauh lebih indah dan tertata dibandingkan dengan hiruk-pikuk di sana. Hanya saja—dan lagi-lagi—bayangan kegilaan di sudut ibukota itu selalu membuatku merenung, betapa kurindukan berbagai bising yang menyatu dengan segala keunikan itu dan memaksaku untuk menyebut nama-nama mereka yang kutinggalkan di sana dalam bisikan.
Masih kuingat senja itu, saat kulewatkan sore berawan bersama seorang gadis yang hanya terpaut beberapa tahun denganku, yang selalu kusebut sebagai teman dan musuhku, yang selalu kusebut sebagai adik tersayangku. Kami beradu tawa, terbahak hingga para insani mendelik tajam, saling merangkul diri seolah ia dan diriku merupakan satu jiwa, bahkan melontarkan seratus makian yang tak pantas didengar balita.
True happiness is to enjoy the present, without anxious dependence upon the future
Allow me to recall our secret talk a long ago…
You said wherever I go, those dark clouds would still remain the same; trailing behind, showing their true color without fear to fade. You said wherever I hide, the breath of sadness would still be running towards; looking for a small slit to whisper the mournful song in to my ears, to break me in pieces. And again, again and again, you kept telling me wherever I stay, it would be still that way—it scared me ’til I forgot how to move aside.
“Living the blue, pervading the sun, listen to the peace that slowly alighted along the breeze.”
I did go. I did hide. But look around me now. Can you see the sun is slapping the back of my head? To burn it into an extent that the bright blue over there is waiting for me to jump on? Can you hear the waves starving itself? To wake me up that the era is already done? The era where the clouds have been dispersed by the warmth of Maya’s absolute God?
I do not understand why he’d come now. I knew he has been trying to reach me for a long time―just to ask my name.
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 myself 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.
“Your sins won’t simply be vanished by sipping a cup of coffee.”
The voice was right in front of me. I looked up, raised my chin to find a man with his dark-shiny hair, sat in peace without worrying me to scream at any time―or slap his beautiful face with hot water.
“Your name?” he asked while tilting his head.
We examined each other by looking into our eyes. His were dark, very dark, as if no mercy in it.
The dim light in the corner of the room made his brown skin as black as his thick jacket. I saw Bob was too happy making a cup of coffee in the bar and no one seemed to realize his presence here.
“Your name―or I’m going to storm this place in one second,” he spoke as if he was threatening me.
I shook my head, gave him a glance of smirk, “Are you trying to be funny?”
“Am I?” The way he looked at me was hideous. His long fingers kept tapping on the table. It only took a few seconds for me to obey. He was impatient and I was a lone.