That's How I'd Imagine You and Me

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This is how I'd imagine you and me — not in a grand hall with rose petals covering the floor. I'd imagine you and me lying on a maroon rug, where we can still feel the pointy end of the grass brushes our skin through the fluffy-like fabric. We are at the open, a park, somewhere unfamiliar, not home, maybe Vienna. I think it is fair since our definition of home lies elsewhere across the ocean. The clouds are in a perfect cushion shape against flaring baby blue sky. You'd wear your favorite Batman t-shirt and washed out jeans whilst I wear my black deer-print Summer dress right above the knee as I could feel the breeze sweeps through my thighs. It is the first day of Summer and we have not seen each other in flesh for over two seasons. As we lay down, We'd talk about space ships, car ships and medical capsule that should be invented by 2154 and would be the death of doctors and medical degree. Sometimes we'd argue, not in the sense of fighting, but just simply being in two opposite sides. Although, honestly, I secretly agree with you from the start, but I'd still stay on the other side of the road, just because I like the way when you look at me when you tell me I was wrong. There is this gush of sincere determination in your eyes that says I meant so much to you, you want me to be on your side. Then, when it feels like the everything move in motion as the sun turns orange-like at the tip of the horizon, you'd say, "I've got to film this." and you have your camera ready, while I was taking a mental picture of you, filming the world as it happen. For a moment, I'd forget everything that I have feared. I'd forget that after the sun set and the clock strikes ten, we have to go to different destination; I'd forget at the end of the day, we'd be gone in to the wilderness of uncertainties, apart, solely holding on to a display of cheap souvenir that recites fractured memories — Vienna and milkshake prose. Nonetheless, I'd say we'd stay bloom, in distance.


This is how I'd imagine you and me, if we were ever meant to be.

A piece by : Fiya Muiz
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What We Could Have Been

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I want to see what we could have been.

If I said yes, instead of no.

If you said stay, instead of go.

If we stick around for another moment, just another moment,
would you changed your mind?

Could we forget our differences and stay for the long run?

Not just over the shifts of seasons but  both for the snow and sun.

Cause I have seen the ray of sunshine in your eyes, 

 and tasted the flavour of rainbow on your wine-kissed lips.

I want to know what we could have been.

Cause I feel there could be another story waiting to begin.

And this time, I think we could win.

A piece by : Fiya Muiz
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Days

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There are days that you feel lower than the ground, drowning deeper than a sinking ship. Don't worry. Those kind of days are part of the story. It is what gives rainbow and sunshine meanings. It is the moondust that pitch in the beauty of the universe as a whole. Without them, you won't know how great the good days feel like.

Swanage, Dorset. 2013.

A piece by : Fiya Muiz
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Fourth of November

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Happy fourth of November.

Bless you, the lost soul.

I have always missed you.

Let you be forever lost and never be found.

And I will always be your home that you will never know.

A piece by : Fiya Muiz
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As Long As We Are Not Alone

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I'd like to think we are like a cup of tea that soothes each other company briefly. Brewed with luke-warm water, fused in anti-clockwise spin, we'd get each other through the times when we least want to be alone. But I am not yours, nor you are mine.

I'd feel comfort when you rush in. The warmth, taste and scent. But as soon my lips not on yours, as soon my hand lose the grip of your cheek, we are stretched in space and time alongside with ego and pride.

We'd store each other in the cupboard with the long list of names and figures. Untouched. By the time the sky is looking grey or the lights is too bright flashing in rhymes with the sound of fast beat music, I'd crave for you dearly.

I'd crave for you as you'd crave for me — at the fragile hours, when honesty and a little too much touch of whisky are breathing down your neck, trashing your usual ego and pride down the bin. Then it softens mine, too. Then somehow, we are here again, laying to the sound of nothing.

We'd lay in silence, quietly looking at the harm we have caused ourselves. The harm that none of us can see, but there. Like oxygen. And we breathe into it. We cover underneath it, through the shift of season, as we merely seek warmth from each other till the urge stops pouring and sensibility rise above the sun.

Back then, we were once golden. We could have had it all; but we crumbled into ashes too soon. Then I stopped questioning why we couldn't be better than a cup of tea. We'd just lay low in blatant acceptance to settle below the bar, not to be greater than we thought — as long we are not alone.

We are alright. At least, I'd like to tell myself that we are. So I do not need to worry, when I am running out of you, and you have consumed me enough, I will be just fine.

A piece by : Fiya Muiz
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Traffic: Please, Don't Fall In Love With Me

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Having the misfortune of living in one of the busiest capital city in this world, is to have traffic in daily basis. Jakarta is a mess and it never ends. The controversy whether or not it is a beautiful mess lies under the statement of the city we love to hate. It dances in accordance with overpopulated and over-polluted truths. The recent raise of gas price helps nothing to reduce the tangled threads of happy hour traffic. However, it is not always get so ugly. Most of the overly blessed inhabitants in this city are blinded by the bright red of auto-mobile's brake ahead of them, they are unable to see the chance of fortunes are blinking before their eyes. Everyone should take advantage of the traffic as much it gotten from them. Imagine how many conversations, or love, could grow in the midst of middle-class workers impatience and car's horn.

That is why invited you to this party for two — to drive me from the southern part of Jakarta, all the way to the East on a Friday night when the traffic is the worst. I told you I have not been to the East for more than a year but honestly, I don't really want to see the newly-built seventh stories mall with flashy lights and massive park on the outside, like the one in New York City; I just I want to spend the long, annoying and frustrating hours in the car with you. Where we could listen to your dad's old cassette because radio is too mainstream. And in between old love songs, we would stumble upon a conversation about our exes; your clingy ex-girlfriend, and I was once in love with your best friend.

In this dreadful hours of traffic, I could learn things about you. I learned that you have a very short temper especially when there is a car trying to get ahead of your speed. And you dislike the fact that I take pictures of this city as if I was a tourist. But I know it is just because I reminded you of your ex girlfriend whom happens to be a free-lance photographer. And honestly, you kind of reminded me of your best friend, too.

I know you are getting tired, but I am going to keep talking. Not just because it is nice talking to you but also for the sake of your distraction. You are going be too busy listening to me, or thinking how annoying I am, hence you will forget we are doomed with the utmost crowded lane in this city.

Then you forget to take the last U-turn, so we have to take longer route. But I am glad that you missed it, because it bought me another half an hour to forty minutes to spend with you. You can miss the next turn again, you know. I don't mind.

We are one traffic light away from the East. Between the empty seconds the red light turns green, there was a thirteen year old boy walked towards us, selling a handful of roses.

'Are you not going to get me one?' I teased you lightly but you only chuckled in the sound of deep sarcasm.

You waved your hand to the boy as a polite gesture of refusal. The light is still counting down the last twenty seconds before it let us go. I thought the boy would immediately move along, but before he left he drew an I, a heart and U by the window next to you. I leaned closer to the driver's seat to take a closer look, 'Did he just draw "I love you" sign?'

'Yes.' you answered briefly. This time, you sounded bitter, almost in the sense you would not like anything romantic happen before us. Nonetheless, I still find the boy almost like a street-version of cupid without wings and I spent a good eight seconds laughing about it before hit you on the arm. 'I'm going to write this in my book!' I said half-shouted. Then you responded very short and clear, 'But don't write anything about me there.'

It passes so quickly and to my ears it sounded like, 'Please, don't fall in love with me.' It takes a while to process, given I am used to be the one who sets up the wall — the distance and the warning of don't fall in love with me, and make sure nobody cross or jump off it. This time, feels different to be on the other side of the wall. Therefore, I just realised, in this very party for two, I also get to know the reason why we cannot stay longer than the traffic. Because I can easily fall for you in any second now but if you ask me not to, I think I can do that too. 

A piece by : Fiya Muiz
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Breaking the Bad

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If you have not watched the season finale of Breaking Bad, which I highly recommend you to do so, effective immediately, because your life would miss one of the greatest, finest things that ever happened in human history, I advise you not to read this post below.

The season finale explains the loose ends and ended the oh-so cliche of the initial reason why Walter White started doing his meth empire — after all this time, he has been saying he did this for the family but then, when he bound to have his last goodbye, he confessed, "I did it for me. I liked it. I was good at it." Moreover, it closes with an intense pause of clarity and justification to what he had done, "And I was alive." That is the moment that settles everything; everything since the plot started on a boiling van in the middle of dry Albuquerque desert. As quoted from the mastermind-slash-creator, Vince Gilligan, that is the long overdue of Walter's honesty. In the last three episodes, the relationship between Walt and Jesse has been tossed around in hatred, however, when Jesse ended up not pulling the trigger and later, he gave him a silent nod as he stares at Walt's bleeding wound, that is their final goodbye. They both know, this is it. The actual end. What is best also, the production brilliantly relates the song Baby Blue that was once played in the beginning of their first batch of crystal blue meth, to the very last scene where Walt dies in peace with his one true, well, baby — the meth lab. It gets emotional, as the camera panned out, and you can hear the song playing: the special love, I have for you, my baby blue. That, screams for every word of banned from parental advisor.

Bryan Cranston and Aaron Paul did more than justice bringing those characters alive. They have what makes everything works: chemistry. Oh, the pun. Vince Gilligan said on an interview saying he wants to have "that kind of immortality through the work" where it could long outlived him — those who have not born yet would still know. Well, I would just like to say, there you have it, Vince. There you have it.

A piece by : Fiya Muiz
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