Showing posts from August, 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…

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…


the practice of concealing messages or information within other nonsecret text or data

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.


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 selanjutn…


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?