Recycling

Buzzing Camaraderie

I don't want to explain at length about my meeting with Martin Sakiranjana's parents. Just summarize after the long talk, I helped her daughter do the chores.

When someone asks. What a conversation he had with his father. That to me is not something that directs the conversation of this novel, I make the standard of remembering the lover is not such a talk.

As always. The conversation that made me think hard answered one by one. He considered me a smart person who understands three languages, discussing the mathematics of Junior High School to High School, finance-finance to criminal cases. There is one interesting thing, when talking about mathematics it is clear that the figure of the teacher who studied me first in SD thought back to make me mention alone, the sense of wanting to meet to say my gratitude to him.

Then his father asked me to help with the task of Martin Sirikanjana. He watches like a security guard who thinks of me as a criminal.

However, his gaze was warm full of tranquility. Likely not like that I mean, I don't know sometimes I'm confused myself, just uncomfortable being treated like that.

I have another proverb. He's like a bacteria watcher, I'm the bacteria whether it's good or bad bacteria. Not even it seems. I'm sorry if Martin Sirikanjana's father read this.

After that I went home. Driving on the streets with my thoughts. With a strong resting hand grip on the handlebar. My soul still connected the curiosity towards the figure of Wapta who did not reply to my letter until this second, three days had passed. He didn't reply.

Is it really what happened? Maybe in my letter there was a word error that made him angry with me. I don't know, my mind is still thinking about it, even though long distance is a barrier for me to know the answer.

I forgot to put my phone number in my letter. It was in a hurry to not think about putting a mobile number in it. I forgot, how bad I was. It is likely that Wapta is still waiting for the right moment or he does not intend to reply.

***

Get home. Grandpa exclaimed at the shop, waving, calling out to me. All right, I was curious to decide to approach. Run with sure steps.

“Grandfather, what's up?” We're close together now, look at each other for a moment.

“There's a letter for you.” Grandpa gave me a piece of paper wrapped in an envelope. I swallowed spit. As I held it the air felt cold, the letter I had been waiting for finally arrived before my eyes.

Like I thought. Stronger than anything is true. After I saw it clearly, the letter was from Wapta. Three days I waited, chances are he was busy so he couldn't get back quickly.

The buzz of my longing resounded around the air. Growing through the vibration of the world. Through the estuary rivers. Wherever the foot rests, the tone of my love ends in the simple singing of European songs.

“Read with an airy heart, don't think of anything else.” Grandfather like giving a picture of the contents of the letter I was holding.

Prejudice in my mind was an uncertain feeling. I'm worried about whether or not I want to open the letter.

When I opened it, I read. Sure enough, I found a paragraph that made me sigh in disappointment.

Wapta, I'm honestly telling you everything. If you want to know. I wrote my letter at the time with a sincere feeling, that's the truth.

I said inwardly as if not to read the contents of the letter from Wapta which disappointed me, holding my head. My grandfather seemed to have read my letter. He looked at me patting my shoulder telling me to stand for a while, forgetting a clear love sentence will only burden the mind.

Alright, I according—go beristiharat. Inside the room, closed quietly. I lay staring at the letter Wapta.

Not being upset or sad, but that is my habit of often contemplating something that is in my life, something that makes me know the error of the word and so forth.

Returning. I read the letter. With a big heart and a calm mind.

Wapta was kind enough to write a letter in Indonesian, but the content of the letter successfully made me not excited. Color fastness of clothes. Bias of camaraderie is meaningless or more than that. The picture of something suffered a feeling that seemed to collapse a magnificent building that had been built with hope.

Excuse me. No offense I'm just telling you.

I'm sure you're lying, Nar.

That was the last sentence that made me uncomfortable. I'm not lying. Gosh gosh? Let it be, if only our distance were close, I would meet you to explain everything.

But in this land of the White Elephant I will prove to you that I am not lying. (Honestly) That's the unlucky word I'm now walking all out on.

Even asking myself why I wrote the word honest in it, actually that's my habit when I wrote diary.

It was the same feeling when I first read it. I'm trying to calm down. Lifting the letter up high, pointing it at the lamp of the room I wanted to break. A moment of thought with an empty mind. Wiping the letters I want to burn immediately so that it burns—do not leave a mark.

I'm upset, very upset. That honest word is what I regret deeply now. Why did I write it? Whyaaaa?

I'm spreading the letter. More precisely I threw it up, the paper scattered down to float to the surface of my face.

I can't believe I fell into a foreign paper fold that I haven't opened yet. I quickly woke up, opening up the soft folds of paper that I did not know. There is another letter:

Narak, I still believe in you. Just joking. I know your habits that I've seen a lot. It turns out you haven't changed, yeah stay the same as you used to.

I am also busy studying psychology. Actually I wanted to tell you. Haha. You must be surprised to read the previous letter.

Don't be surprised. It's shock. You should know there are studies that say the word honest is used by some people to lie.

Iknowyou. You can't lie, right? Take care of your health, Nar. I hope we can meet.

I let out a sigh of relief. Thank you, Wapta. I just found out about it. In other things I don't want to say it anymore, even write it down.

What else can I do? That was my habit from before. Honest, honest, honest. If you think again actually for what I write honest words that are just when used or not, yes it seems the perception is the same. People I know will still believe, even if I don't mention that I'm being honest.

There are many things I do not know in this world. Some of the people closest to me thank God they told me little by little.

I am also not a poet who is able to string sentence by sentence saying thank you verses into the best echo, but I just know my word limits that are not much different from ordinary people.

On the second chance. On the current date I stare at the calendar, muttering counting the days. Through the uncomfortable that has made me often sail in a silent breath. The dimness of the light in the western horizon makes time a memory.

Under the shade of twilight. It used to be on one of the beaches echoed peaceful waves, rolling in time until the sun sank in the ocean.

Several times I felt the blowing of the night wind, shouting a unity of meaning in a number of words that I refused to tell you what it was like. More, more beautiful, more free and so on.

The hums of disguise I heard, the shape of a voice without anyone around me. Feeling a simple calm that I can describe on the sidelines of the sand, able to reduce the anger that seemed to peak to the limits of wishful thinking.

Spreading the problem seems like an easy thing. It only takes courage to act, trying for things that do not need to be looked at perfectly. That's a false reality, at first glance there is a feeling of not wanting to know or not wanting to just remember it. Calm down and calm down.

I had hoped that tomorrow would not be the same as before, hopefully there is a change of mind that is not necessarily the direction of the goal. From the beginning, from a small age to the present age that people call a young man. That's something I know about myself.