hujan.

ada sesuatu tentang
baju-baju cucian yang tidak
sempat diangkat waktu
hujan datang.

ada sesuatu tentang
cara titik hujan
jatuh diatas sandal tua
yang lelah.

jarakku memandang hanya sebatas pagar di halaman belakang
jarakku membayangkan melewati padang terentang.

november, 6/2010.
sydney.

all images are ©priska febrinia.

midnight packages

a mug of warmth and
a piece of longing heart.

and all those colds are gone.

i want to live in a library

sleeping with a book-blanket out at sea.
-seabear, library.

i love libraries, especially the dim-lit, quiet and somehow messy libraries. not the bright, happy libraries, glistening with new colorful books. i love the kind of libraries that are a bit dusty, that reminds you of simple beautiful things which are probably forgotten while you are living in your busy world; the kind of libraries which make your heart beats a little bit faster when you walk along its quiet isle because you feel like you are entering a secretly magical, strange but somehow familiar place. you can't not love the feeling when you can hear your own shoes on the floor and sense the smell of old books. the quietness, the feeling that you're surrounded by some kind of unrevealed mysteries, the feeling when you move your fingers through dusty old books from faraway places.
and you know, you are having your own little adventure.

more photos here

perjalanan pulang

lampu kota mengabur. di antara banyak langkah kaki dan suara aku pelan-pelan membisikkan namamu ke udara, mengucapkannya tanpa bersuara, melepaskannya dengan hati-hati, berharap ia sampai dengan selamat ke atmosfer dimana semua berbaur antara mimpi dan harapan dan doa dan kenyataan.

dan aku mengucap syukur dengan sunyi: mengetahui bahwa engkau ada di dunia ini memberikan kelegaan yang tidak bisa aku jelaskan.

for the memory under the cotton tree

I remember,

it was breezy and warm, in the first day of summer,

the wind carried the sweetness of meadow flowers,

and the freshness of green grasses.

That time I saw you,

smiled, staring at the clouds.

Quiet. Wise. Bothered not by the outside world.

In the moment you caught my eyes,

I remember,

tons of silence,

but your eyes spoke tenderly,

the words hided under your wings.

Smiling,

you asked me to follow,

barefeet, stepped on the dewy grasses,

greeted the sun and the trees,

listened to the river and the wind.

You said, "I want to live like them;

free, but in harmony,

careless, but in compassion",

and I was amazed. I could not say a word.

It is breezy and warm, in the first day of summer,

I’m standing in the middle of meadow-flowers.

I remember,

and I smile.

It was my first love.

March 3rd 2007

for introduction to literature class

let's go somewhere stupid

meet me in the same daylight sky
sit beside me and
take out your wooden spoon and lets
take a spoonful of sunbeams
and a mouthful of clouds
and laugh at our own silliness

meet me in the same night sky
lay beside me and
bring your kaleidoscope
take a look at the stars and
call them by their names, and lets watch
the wind passing by,
wondering where it goes
wondering where our life goes.

you know, sometimes
i just want to wash my face in the sky.

driving

only the thought of you gives me the ability to smile at
the billboards. at the traffic lights. at the faces of the
strangers. at the raindrops on
the window.