Another afternoon walking.
Same sky, different angles, and these pictures were the result of my afternoon walking.
Another afternoon walking.
Same sky, different angles, and these pictures were the result of my afternoon walking.
His right sleeve was burned and fire was dancing in the grip of his right hand. His avatar changed into demonic statue with blur presence. His name was known by few people but they had really no clue about him. He was standing alone for a while watching how messed up his place was back then. Behind him there were people who hated him. People who always were looking down upon him with whisper of hate. As his body began to root with fire his mind turned on reflections of his actions lately. As his eyes watching his fallen betrayer his mind demanded answer.
To whom am I doing these?
These weren’t meant to be answered, he thought. He figured as his right hand began to transform into burning iron that he had no clue for standing between Death and his people which he used to call friends. His body was then unrecognized by his own kind and burning hand wasn’t normal for human. He took a minor step back and lowering his gaze to his hand.
Is this the right thing to stand between what has been lined for eons?
Death knew him as an old friend. Death offered him his own hand and said,
Come or be gone, I come for what has been my duty since before your time.
He looked upon the Death whom was standing idly in front of him. Destiny was blocked by his own hand. He remembered how his people forgot him for reasons as he kept on remaining himself about keeping them safe. His avatar faded and his right hand became normal once again. The heat from his right hand turned the raindrops into a thin layer steam merging with the smoke of the dead. He turned his sight to people behind him. People who were called friend stood in shock finding not being human.
I’m not human nor demon nor angel. I’m not an offspring of the two or of them all. I’m not a God himself.
He walked to the mist created by the steams and smokes on the battlefield and vanished into the unknown of afternoon. The day of happiness turned into the day of darkness. He left the scene and never came back. His legacy in town was sealed and never found as if he indeed never existed in the first place. His right hand started to cool down and after the temperature was normal he put on his old coat.
He left the shattered earth on ruins of the living. He left his trust of things he remembered. He left the scene badly wounded and with heavy internal bleeding which the dead would gladly presume he would join them sooner. Among his former an so-called friends there was no one survived. Death claimed them all in one swing of its swift and painless scythe.
He walked with mourn of nothing.
I hardly distinguish one from another. I define early bird as bird that wakes up earl before the sun rises and night owl as an normal owl that hunts it prey after the night falls. My regular daily activities are usually begun after the sun comes up but these activities have nothing to do about how I start and and my time.
There are times where I had to wake up before the sun came up and also when I was able to sleep two or three hours before the sun rose. In short, sometimes I am an early bird, in other times I am a night owl, and in any other times I am both.
Which one is more effective and refreshing?
That depends on my sleeping. There are times when I had to sleep less than two hours and my freshness was good, sometimes it was even more than just good and there also are times when I slept for more than six hours and I felt weak and still sleepy.
What I am currently planning is that I can be an early bird. Why? I don’t know. I just feel that is the right way for my body metabolism. I feel more comfortable when I wake up early than go to sleep late. Maybe because I like to see the sunrise?
Talk about stranger, I met one one week ago. Let me describe the place, time, and the weather first before telling you about the stranger and the meeting occasion. They are so clear to as if this happened just yesterday.
I was in short open corridor with blue cellars. There were few florescent light above and they lighted my way to the end of the corridor. The floor was a bit rocky but it was not really ‘rocky’. The floor was made from mixture between cement and small stones. The corridor had no walls and breeze cold come and go anytime anywhere it wanted.
It was night and the time was about eight more or less – I don’t know if 20.00 hrs is considered night or afternoon but in this case, let use night preference – in the night.
It was one cold and wet night. Rain hadn’t stopped from the afternoon and the drops were light but continuously. Sky was dark with no moon’s presence detected. Black clouds were above my head like I was wearing black shrouds.
Then, about the occasion.
I was in the end of corridor realizing the rain had gone heavier. I stopped for a while and opened my bag taking out my umbrella. When I was preparing my protector of the rain, there was this girl passing by on the street on front of my with her umbrella. It was dark so I couldn’t distinguish the color of her umbrella, was it black, dark red, dark blue, or else? I didn’t know. She then stopped and starring at me who was trying to open my jamming umbrella.
Hey, …, it’s me.
I was like surprised and took a look around and I saw no one else around me. That meant she was talking to me but I didn’t recognize her face or her voice. It was beautiful tough. After a few awkward minutes she said,
Ah, never mind ….
She continued walking under the rain. I forced my umbrella to open and it worked. I fastened my steps onto her and said something which started a short conversation and we walked together for a while,
Sorry, was there something back then?
Oh, never mind. I mistook you for someone else. That’s stupid. Sorry.
It’s fine. So, there is indeed someone else who has resemblance with me.
Yeah, I thought you were my friend’s boyfriends. You two share the same look.
Well, there are always people who look like the other, I guess. Where are you living?
She said that she lived in the same street as I was but my place was a bit further north. Our conversation finished when she met her friend on the way. I continued lightly after realizing she wouldn’t take brief talking with her friend so I decided to move along alone.
I never got to learn her name or address or even phone number or email. I am still wondering if I may meet her again someday under the rain. Well, that’s one kind of hope.
This post is written to respond this daily prompt.
Since I am living in the middle of community which consist of people, I should worry about them generally. Why? These are why.
First, most of them can easily throw away their junks in public transportation such as bus or train. I don’t know their motives of doing this. Is that maybe, because cleaning services are available? Or because they are so lazy to save their junks until they find proper trash bin?
Second, I rarely find clean places without cleaning service even in my campus. If you reader don’t know about my campus, this is one of many reason I hate people in here: after the other class finished, when I enter the room, I always find junks everywhere on the floor such as empty bottle of drink, plastic bag of food or something, used papers, even crumbs. These junks are commonly found under seats at the back.
Third, riverbank. This stupidity involves at least two parties: government, especially local government and the community. What is this stupidity? They don’t keep the riverbank and the river itself clean and working properly. It is only rare that I can find clean water in the river without plastic junks. It is also rare that I can find fishes swimming peacefully in the river.
Fourth, forest. This madness also is made by the same two parties. They cut down trees in the higher plains and mountains and convert the land into something they say more valuable or more economically precious and they are: hotels, touring route, and any other place for fun. NATURE ISN’T ONLY FOR FUN! Well, yeah they say that they will replant the trees but I hear and I see that is just mostly bullsh*t. How do I prove that? Simple, there are some areas which are lower areas and never get caught by flood for many long years until this year. For more than 30 years they have never gotten caught in the flood and yet this year they are crying for help. Jakarta? that’s the worst of all places but it’s the capital of the country with the biggest money circulation in this country, they said about 70%, so I force myself to give some respects.
Fifth, education. I can’t say I am the best of all educated person nor my school is the best. What I hate is that students whom come from good and well facilitated school do protest against government about national examination. They said that was because this exams were not meant to be taken by students from the rimlands because they didn’t have the same quality as theirs. Oh, come on. If you have the quality why don’t you take the exams fairly, graduate and become the leader of this country so their fate can be better under your governing period?
Sixth, injustice. Well, I don’t have to explain any further about this. If I do, my head then will explode in anger.
Why do I blog? This is interesting question.
I’m not into journalism really much. I’m not a photographer like any other blogger who makes a lot of beautiful photos. I’m not good reader at books so I can make review of it and post them here. I’m not a good cook to blog about how great a recipe is In short, I don’t have, right now, my blogging specialty. But, I like to write. I love to write as many as possible about almost everything.
I need to hone my writing and reading skill especially in English so I write. I find blog is the best media to write something. Blog is the place where I can put passages of story of my own creation without worrying someone will make fun of me. Blog is the place where I can learn English in modern ways, culture, books, and any other. Blog is also place for me to read other people’s experiences.
I have sometimes many things so imaginary inside my mind like stories, opinions, and sometimes fantasies. I find blog can be used to channel those ideas into letters so people out there can read my thoughts fairly and if they like my ideas, my contents, I hope these can at least entertain them.
Blog is a fun way to do reading. Why is that fun? Because I don’t have to read anything I don’t like. For example, I hate it when I have to ready political passage as my learning material or sport-related article. But in there many things other than politics and sports in blogging world. I can find the same learning material in other passage such as art, photography, expedition, and other experience.
To be able to contribute in such thing: telling people how wonderful you morning was; how great your coffee was: how beautiful your local festival was; is just awesome. When in real life, there is no guarantee that people would read your writings, in blog, there are plenty certainties that people would lovely read your stories. You don’t have to be afraid about finding someone else who shares common hobbies or interest with you.
By blogging, I find myself learning so much: learning how to make sentences in English, combine them into one meaningful passage, and mix it another passage into good stories. More importantly, I read, I know, I learn.
So, this is what I get but I am pretty sure that there are more which I haven’t realized yet.