Miss To Move Diary

Teacher Or Dad....

Thanks for stopping by Yevn's graffiti.

There are still many mistakes in this writing. 🙏🙏

Here Yevn shares only a few of Yevn's personal stories. There is a comment that Yevn read if this is more like reading a diary, that's right. 👍✌

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There is no other place I can go. Because I asked in a few places.

'Just ask my mom, maybe,,,,, ' I murmured.

Without thinking, I headed for my bike. And then gas.

In front of the car looks relaxed. I'm a shortcut ah. . . .

And without me knowing the car that I shortcut is a car entourage office people brought with me my professor brother.. 😂😂

Arriving at my mother's house, I told her everything about the food I couldn't find.

Maybe somewhere else is still there, but there's no way I'm going there because it takes a long time. Coordination meeting will begin soon.

Finally my mother took the container. Then put rice, side dishes, vegetables and others that are enough for some people.

"Then bring it, they must be hungry."

My mother said while giving the container that has been filled.

"OK mah, thank you, Yevn go first yes," I said with a happy smile.

"Yes, take care of your heart, son." Mom's message.

"Yes, ma. Assalamu'alaikum."

"wa'alaikumsalam". Answer mama.

It was great not to disappoint them. And happy too because I don't need to go around eating places.

Especially having to go somewhere a little far, plus the road is jammed. My body is so tired of coming home from college.

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The location of the event is located in a large field, which is where the stage of a large and magnificent pavilion is almost completed.

Seen workers, organizers, event sections, performers, are busy with their respective tasks.

The guest tent invitation tent, the guest of honor has stood up.

Fortunately I used a motor. If I had been to the location by car, I would not have arrived here. Because the road is so jammed.

I parked my bike under the guest tent, which was not yet in the layout of chairs and sofas.

I won't find the guy.

Suddenly a male voice called me.

"Yevn, Yev, Yevna." I looked at the origin of the sound,

"Eh, yes, Mr. Nazar," I answered that he was a friend of Mr. Amrisal, who was also a teacher of my High School srkaligus one of the organizers involved in this event.

"From Mr Am?" Ask her..

"Yes, sir, do you know where Am is now?" My toot.

"He's behind astaka, in mushalla."

Show me Mr. Nazar.

"Oh, well sir, thank you, Yevn excuse me first."

"Yes." Yeah." The answer.

Mr. Nazar is a Teacher in Information and Communication Technology at my High School.

He is also an artist, just like me. It's just that he mastered more musical instruments. I've only just mastered the violin, piano and guitar."

Finally I found Mr. Amriasal with his friend in the musholla.

"How many servings of Yevn?" Ask Mr. Amrisal.

"Ga tau, mama prepared." My answer. Amrisal and I are very close. Then I dare to be a little spoiled by him.

I consider him my own father.

It was with him that I was taught to cultivate my voice, to become an MC.

And alhamdulillah already known the district for now.

Besides Mr. Amrisal in the room, it turns out ......

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