Recycling

Lita Aksima and For The Missing Sheets

Light dimmed in the western sky. I dwell in memories and long-lost dreams are blown by the wind. How did the swish of hands and mouth that said the garish sentence was captured by the brain and taken by it and left?

The past is drawing it. I sat quietly lightening my head for a moment.

Grasping a small stone in my hand, muttering what I thought was one of life's main goals.

The multi-storey building and I were a tacky person who first came to the city like an indigenous person in ancient times who had just moved and lived in modern times. Surprised, clumsy and awkward or so on. Staring at the building soaring up to the limit of the height of the clouds with a charming height. Beautiful, the light was refracted between the glass, when morning arrived the face was smiling radiantly to welcome the day.

I was alone in the dark of the night. Ask yourself to understand a word of surprise.

Heart beating screaming forced take camera. Is this a selfie photo? In my mind blurting out the word wah feeling for a moment rejoicing syahdu with the rhythm of monza. Along with the swaying grass.

That broken love or compassion has not existed in this region. Batata Oraina Masu, that's the name of his territory. Oh, naw. That's not what I meant. And this isn't about showing off, obviously it's not about showing off, man.

You know the musicalization of that old poem in millions of numbers. Thrilling the heart of the person who heard it, it's okay that I don't actually know how to string this verse together to read like a thrilling intonation. It's not about what, it's not about wheat being burned. It's not about cows. But this is about a series of words to continue to be able to go forward or resign time.

I call it a newspaper. Recalling the script editor's remark that day, I didn't respond much to everything.

But this is an old story that goes far beyond the pent-up feelings of love, about the struggle and the old story that has long since ended. If they say it's easy, who says it's easy? It's enough never to talk original about any of this. Exactly the activities that happened to me in the bar room were not much different. In ancient times that are not modern as now, the desert with hot temperatures seemed to burn the soul.

The brown hat cowboy in his cool suit was sitting as usual while enjoying his drink. Some of the people who were looking at him were whispering ridiculously. I sat listening to their whispers.

“The cowboy doesn't know himself. Look at his curly hair, his shabby hat and his shirt, it has not been replaced for a long time. Poor cowboy.”

“Yes, she is unknowingly in love with one of the princesses of the king. That's not to the extent, the cowboy is not self-conscious.”

One more friend responded. “Yes, don't know yourself. Already poor, have no manners, love the daughter of a king.”

The cowboy looked at them. “You guys are a group of people who love to get together and talk ugly about other people.”

The cowboy approached. I muttered in surprise, the distance between them is quite far, how could he hear it? Hmm. I thought hard enough thinking about it.

Could it be that the cowboy had super ears that could hear up to the umpteenth thousand kilometers away? I'm too dramatic about all this.

They're silent. The other one I saw seemed to swallow, I looked at the two of them with the cowboy I was rubbing my chest softly, nervous and afraid to get mixed up. Why is the cowboy fierce, I thought that back then I was writing it normally, why has his nature now changed? God, is it possible that a fictional character has personal feelings? All right, I have a lot to do with this, I have a lot to do, of course thinking of majaz and mumbling will not ask many questions about all this that I hope all this will be able to end with an easy and comfortable guess ending of course. A fun ending for others.

“Why don't you guys talk one bit. Answer my words.” The cowboy urged with a pleasant look.

Pleasant? Kok can—I rubbed my head, do not understand. Minutes long enough to think about it.

Scary. Ah, that should be what I mean. Let me repeat, the cowboy urged with a creepy look. One or two of them seemed to be trembling, not strong enough to stare at the cowboy's eyes.

They were scared. Their faces were sweating, the cowboy momentarily laughed.

I was surprised to stare at the sheet of paper instead of playing. That cowboy changed again in nature? How can? He laughed, this loh?

I rolled up the paper and threw it in the trash. “Why? Why of the many story ideas in my head, none of them I can write with pith.”

Scrambling hair and exhaling an upset breath. I could not understand about me writing that cowboy story, my head seemed to be invited to travel with something that I could not understand.

The adventurer said with a hat and sat on the saddle. A cowboy's horse was crisscrossing in front of him was apparently a ravine with a fantastic steep base sharpening down, not up. Upps, I was wrong again in writing and back the paper I threw away.

***

My break-up tonight was accompanied by the moon. Life is so tenuous that it is one or two sentences that come out in rows per number, rows of life meanings that I cannot yet solve.

Look around why I cry when I fail, why do I feel alone and lonely in this life? Until finally feeling empty. The series I wrote in the diary. Term per forced term. Numbers per number of pain.

The stars fell in the sky, I looked at him. Closing my eyes with hope.

Lita Aksima's. A whole name popped into my head and made me feel like there were drops of a waterfall falling.

That name, I recall that name I wrote in a fictional story that threw a discordant temple, not to the anguish of the swan that started his life.

Not the cowboy story I wrote, but he was Lita Aksima, a fictional character who often helped me solve problems. How could I forget it after so long? I rushed back into the room and came to the table where I was writing.

I took the paper and carved the pen. There, I re-imagined and wrote a few sentences.

Gathering all the strength and tone that I thought was beautiful at this time. The feeling of silence with the misfortune of the wind in the window, the curtain touched by it. I'm enjoying the atmosphere tonight, looking at the paper and pen in my hand.

Writing notes that were once lost and close to the end of the divorce that slammed into old memories, memories of the past that I remember and remember.

I was stuck in a state of silence. Switch to dimensional places. Being in a quiet realm with no light around me, was about to ask, but with whom? Here I clearly see no one I look at, only I stand alone.

Ask myself where is it now? Hey, I wasn't dead because I was desperate before, was I? Or it's just my dream. For a moment I believed that this was just a dream, I would wake up with a dream that I knew would be over. The morning will come soon, I must not give up telling the sentence.

I don't know what to do? Again my molars rub against each other. It was clear I heard and it was unintentional in the confession of guilt for everything I had done.

In the script editor that applies. The people who fill my day and those who are near me and around me. They really have given a valuable life lesson to this time. My youth was all but a blanket of taste, unimportant and consuming many sheets of paper in explaining its silence, without the sweet smile I could look on with compassion.

“Narak!” A woman's voice is heard calling. Wh who? Who's talking?

“See here, you remember me?”

I turned my head, staring at the light in the sky with a woman standing clasping her hands on her chest. Her hair was black unraveling, standing gracefully smilingly calling my name.

“You remember me?” The woman continued to speak with a soft word, how could I forget about it?

“Lita? Lita Aksima?” I was surprised to have not seen each other for a long time.

In the end I said a sentence of gratitude back to being able to meet him.

“Yes, it's me. Thank God, you still remember me.” Lita Aksima is just as grateful as I am.

I approached him. “Where is this? Lita, do you know where this is?” I asked in wonder looking at him.

“Don't you ask, this is much better, right? We're in the tower. Look over there, that's the exit.” Lita Aksima pointed out.

He smiled, then pulled my hand.

I am so happy to see Lita Aksima again. She is one of the women I remember so far.

He and I are now walking out of the tower. There I never thought of a green landscape as a pretty carpet. The wind whipped my hair and Lita Aksima smiled.

Rice along the eye looked, this tower was in the middle of the rice fields. The magnificent palace there I could see clearly.