The Past

Yes, I Am A Long Way From Home

This is the kind of day I found myself queerly settle. As I let myself collapse without barrier or any kind of obligation that might follow my footsteps back to my bed. Where within my own will, I am able to separate myself from the deal, the noise, the expectation or even the weather.

This evening, I stumble upon this video about Jakarta. And this captured mostly about my neighborhood. Where I grew up and live before I moved to England. You know... Jakarta. The word sounded further away than sixteen hours flight. And I never thought in my life I would ever miss Jakarta this much -- more than I anticipated since my departure.

Being away wakes me up from a quick beauty nap of vague appreciation. Without giving less respect to any of you out there, the best advice I can purpose frankly here is when you are in the state of full with hatred, immense loathe towards something; which mostly imply towards the daily routines in your city or town, I suggest you to leave just for a while. Make a distance for a bit. Then after a while, you might realize it is actually a part of you that you do not want to live without just because you have build such strong bond throughout the year. As it declare loudly within the silence of awareness, how attached you are with that very tiny bit of part you thought you despise.

Please do not take this in the wrong way, assuming me disliking this current lovely town I live in. Man, quoting from a song in 2000s, this is all I wanted, and more. What I am having is beyond everything I could ask for. Something priceless. Only the definition of home for myself, is still where the familiarity grow. Where my family are. Where I know the shortcut route. The place where I grew up. This is not permanent statement though. The possibility of changes still wide open.

Or I will just call it second home what comes after. x

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A piece by : Fiya Muiz


He is like the light. He makes me sees things. He makes even mineral water looked elegant standing on its simple eloquent transparency as if it bleeds bubble in a form of evaporation. The light emphasize on every little detail how small and fragile bubbles are. He is like the bright sun on its peak during mid-day, sneaking through the window behind the half opened curtain. He sees what is in the dark. He creates shadow upon his presence. Longing awe carried out as sole expression. He is the light that never goes out.
A piece by : Fiya Muiz