Monday, August 29, 2016

Mirror #2: A Girl and the Postman

"Do you want to have a coffee?" I blurted out.
"What did you say?" asked the postman surprised.
"I wonder whether you want to stay for a bit for a coffee," I continued with a stronger voice. I was not sure back then but after repeating the offer, the question sounded right. I met the postman more often than the postcard man and somehow, the postman started to become like a friend. A familiarity that emerged through seeing each other, even only though distance.

The postman looked a bit hesitant before he nodded. "I only have 6 letters left. I can stay for a bit."

It was strange to invite a stranger to your place. But is the postman a stranger I wonder. Probably, he was the only person who knew my obsession with the postcards. I told my friends that I have stopped expecting them but I could not. Only the postman knew the truth. A kind of a secret pact between me and him. No one knew and since he was half a stranger, I felt it was easier to talk to him. I liked the anonymity between the two of us. Probably, inviting him for a coffee would break our bond, he would no longer become a stranger to me and I was not sure I wanted that. But I did not want to be alone. Not after the empty postcard. A code for me to move on.

He wore a dark blue coat. I took it from him and hanged it next to the door.

"I will boil the water, you can sit there, while eating some cookies."

Outside the cloud started to pour waters. Rain. My favorite. And a stranger in my house.

Mirror #1: A Girl and the Postman

She was standing next to the gate when I passed her house. White dress, messy blonde hair and an unreadable face. She reminded me of an actress from a black-white movie: sad and melancholic. The weather seemed to complete the picture, a bit cloudy and windy. I wished I could cheer her up a bit but somehow, the picture did not look right. Having her smiling was like having a color in a black and white movie.

"Do you have a postcard for me?" she asked. A tone that I recognized as a combination of hope and despair.

I handed her the postcard that she asked and then suddenly, her expression changed. Her blue eyes were getting darker before tears emerged from the corner of her eyes.

"Thank you," she said with a trembling voice.

I stood there. I wanted to comfort her, saying things that could bring the tears away but I was not sure she would expect me to do it. Our interactions were strange. After couples of polite greetings, we started to have deeper conversation. I knew that she lived alone in the isolated house after her parents decided to move to another country. She has a little brother who liked to visit her once or twice per year. And that she always got a postcard from different places. 

I asked her once about the postcards and that was when her eyes got darkened. After that I never asked her about the postcards. Until this moment. I was tempted to cross the boundary again. To say to her that the world was not over. But then who was I to say those words to her. I was just an observer that wanted her to be happy.
 

Tuesday, August 23, 2016

Secret

ste·ga·no·graph·y
the practice of concealing messages or information within other nonsecret text or data
(Google)

The funny thing about a secret is that you want the right person to decode it. You hide it on a false date, a kind of steganography that may disguise others. But when no one notice the brilliant of it, you feel disappointed. There are traces, algorithm over algorithm, which allow you to find the real messages. However, there is a possibility that you get lost along the journey. You start to see the disguise as the real thing and you are no longer sure between the medium and the message.


Saturday, August 13, 2016

Kay

Kay membiarkan kopi hitamnya dingin. Rasa pekat yang biasanya membuat ia bersemangat, kini terasa terlalu menyengat. Pahit. Perasaan yang juga ia rasakan terhadap Kala, pria yang belakangan ini menjadi mimpi buruknya. Ia ingin pria itu bahagia tapi tidak dengan mengorbankan kebahagiannya sendiri.

Beberapa muda-mudi mengambil meja dekat Kay duduk. Ia memandang arlojinya, angka pendek mendekati angka 5, waktu orang-orang keluar kerja. "Mungkin aku harus mulai beranjak," pikir kay dalam hati. Ia tak pernah menyukai keramaian meski kadang ia suka bersembunyi dalam keramaian itu. Berada dalam kerumuman manusia untuk larut dalam pikirannya sendiri. Ia suka memandangi manusia. Menculik secuplik adegan dari apa yang ia lihat untuk kemudian menggubahnya dalam dunia imaji. Ia ingin semua orang bahagia, tapi entah kenapa ia merasa tertekan.

"Sudah mau beredar lagi Kay?" sapa Bagas ketika Kay membereskan laptop metaliknya.
"Yep, memberi ruang bagi pelanggan kamu selanjutnya. Ciao."
"Bye."

Suhu luar beranjak menurun meski masih terlalu panas untuk berjalan terlalu lama di luar ruangan. Masih ada satu tulisan yang harus ia selesaikan tapi pikirannya menolak untuk bekerjasama. Kala dan segala tindakannya membuat ia sakit kepala.

Tuesday, August 02, 2016

Insecurity

The thing about feeling insecure is you try to detach yourself from being involved. The more you like something or somebody, the more you feel the urge to create the detachment.

So then why not go with someone who offered you certainty?

De-taming

"... What does that mean-- 'tame'?" asked the Little Prince. "It is an act too often neglected," said the fox. ...