As you are slowly struck with dementia will you realize that your whole journey up to the point where you are standing now are merely recollections of what you have done in the past. When you start to forget nouns and verbs, so are your memories of the weeks you spent on a countryside or the painful trip to the ICU become nothing but a blur and gone, as if they had never happened in the first place. Perhaps the time would come when your whole life is reduced to a single moment of your childhood, your first memory ever when you were looking through red curtains and felt pretty under the sunlight. When Alzheimer finally wins, what is the whole point of life but breathing and eating? Will it dawn on you, that your days are only as good as your previous days made you?

But it doesn’t matter if in the end you can hardly remember anything, to become a tabula rasa not worth becoming. Because you can only reason living with the moments you are making. Because yesterdays hold only as much worth as a simple tomorrow might become.

So, carry on.

2012 here. What do you want to do? What do I want to do?

Be more of a ‘can-do’ guy, spend less time on the net and actually create.
Spend more attention to the people around me. Like in the closest mental proximity.

Fighting introversion is hard, but fighting apathy is another story. Both are beginning to get to me.

What do you want to do? I want to watch more movies, but not alone.

“I sometimes think, how is anyone ever gonna come up with a book, or a painting, or a symphony, or a sculpture that can compete with a great city. You can’t. Because you look around, and every street, every boulevard, is its own special art form.”
— Gil Pender, Midnight in Paris

It is true that Rome, or Paris, or any other picturesque cities, wasn’t built in a day. Beautiful cities are the result of carefully structured, sustainable urban living space planned with the future generations in mind, combined with the serene or vibrant culture of the society living within it. Every societal space is both a scheme and a progression.

Have you ever tried to explore the city you’re living in? The streets, parks, cafes, shops, offices, malls. Are you taking them for granted?

Setiap siang menjelang, selalu tersirat ketukan lambat di pintu gudang rempah pemikiran. “Apakah derap harimu sudah melalui para pedagang dan pekerja yang menyala sejak fajar mendaki?” lirih ujarnya, tanpa retorika, tanpa nista yang acap tertera di antara kata. Dan dari terik mentari itu mata menggiat, meraup kemerlap petang yang tersisa di jejak langkah para pemetik pagi. Tanpa wicara yang minim makna, sambil menyadur mimpi yang tidak kunjung terpatri.

Hingga malam melingkup, pintu yang tertutup itu membisikkan ketuknya yang kedua. Namun tanpa terdengar sepatah kata. Karena kata mengantar dusta, dan jujur hanya bisa mengudara dari dalam jiwa. Karena surya memang tenggelam untuk memberi kontemplasi dalam gundahnya kelam. Di tengah kosong itu, tangan menggapai pelukan imaji yang kerap berganti. Di dalam hampa itu, hati mencari dan menafikan sunyi.

“Words create lies.”

To the ever falling rainy afternoon, to what you might have become in the meantime of what could have been, to the feminism of trees and flowers in the front of my room, in between the dark clouds are the clinging of hopes of everyone who wishes to go to the places where one could infest and invest their mind with, unless what is found is not what is meant to be, which is proven more than likely, as the drips of your hope may manifest themselves in forms you could hardly imagine. trusting the imminent flow of karma was a novelty one could pertain to but to not live off forever, in the same way a house of cards could simply blown off by the softest touch of anything from the hand of a baby to a crash landing of an airplane which seems more likely to happen as it had happened to twin buildings and the lives that scattered to ashes in those painfully slow seconds of jumping off windows knowing what you haven’t achieved can never be completed now. the psychological wall is high but the chances are never low, in between what could you be is the toying concept of realism and spiritualism confined by the ideologies spoon-fed to you ever since you were a helpless infant creature, and the only way to break through is to stay miles off the warmth of your blanket since there would be no snuggling in what you are facing. a frog may jump as high as the height of rocks would allow it but it would never know how it feels to fly and frustrated itself out of fear of not achieving, yet it found itself in serenity past knowing the progress has no end and chasing the path of light will leave itself forgetting the subtlety of being immersed in the flow of time and time itself, converging with the movements of life and cruising the steps that had been taken and the camps and meals that followed. once in a while being outside the flow of the know is the way to seek and hinder going forth and so what one should imply is the notion of putting another step forward, but who knows how much one would stand such desire when all one knows is the wide space within oneself but not the wide space hampered on the outside. keeping up with others in one thing, and being a good company is another, unless the urgency to know the now has slapped itself in the face of one and the only choice is to self absorb in what everyone would call reality, while there actually is a grotesque idea kept within confined to the level only the transcended conscience could ever connect. keeping the trivial is never essential but otherwise you would not know how it is either trivial nor essential to put into whichever box fits and in the end you are keeping it anyway.