An introvert who is desperately in love with music, photography, culture, stories, outer space and anything that could be considered as art. Been cursed and blessed by the thing I believe it's called Rhotacism. Thought I was lost when I found myself studying in the faculty of literature and culture. Glad enough to grow up in South Jakarta, Indonesia.
Find me in other galaxies:
A mother carried her son along the streets. I often see a mother in public transportations holds her child on her lap, keeping the kid safe, warm, and loved. It is always fascinating to see them like the little creature in her embrace is a precious treasure. Not knowing that the treasure will become a self destruct machine one day, a brain that opposes against her ideas.
I remember digging the bin, crying for a piece of paper. Mom thought it was just another trash, she didn’t know it was more than a small paper. I found it anyway. It was my Alesana ticket. This time, I failed. Again, my concert tickets ended up in the trash. By the time I wanted to search the bin, it was empty, shits moved to the public bin which located miles. Besides, what a girl could find in a freakin huge bin at 11 pm? I remember waiting for hours to buy them treasures, or walking miles away for it with my beloved friend. These two are the only ones left. Still can’t believe I lost the things that hold my memories. A memento of the intangible.
"even if I were to possess all knowledge, without love, I would be nothing, is not simply that with love, I am “something.” For in love, I also am nothing, … a Nothing humbly aware of itself, … made rich through the very awareness of its lack."
"I fear that if I let go of you, I will collapse into myself, like a dying star. It took me ten years to realize that all stars aren’t the same. And it will take me a lifetime to realise that the same such easy conclusions cannot be made about people."