Recycling

The Stone Throw That Failed About the Wall and the Meaning of a Name

A man's name, love, and hope in one purpose I water the soil and grow crops. That's hope.

“You can't mix hope with your ego, friend. It will be chaotic, or even more so your hope is even you mixed with a khalayan that is far different from your ability. A simple example, a weaver who wishes to fly high in the sky with his wings, can he fly in the sky with his wings? A chicken with both wings, can't. Hope is different from ego and khalayan.” My friend kept shaking his mouth, sharp against me.

I fell silent, staring at the end of the pile of old stuff. Without being able to think faster, I immediately reworked all sorts of piles of paper. Now this self can only stare at old files. Look how worn out the sheets of paper I'm holding.

Previously about the voice of my friend, it was the words that used to still imprint until now in my mind. Exactly the same as the understanding said by a woman named Lita Aksima, it's just that it's a little different from the way she talks and the style of language.

Upstairs, I'm here cleaning up a pile of stuff. I never thought there lay an old note that made me a little unconscious about it.

Dusty. I swept it and saw clearly it was my handwriting.

Weirdo? That's what's inside my head. What an old, dusty note that even made my two eyebrows frown. If it was read by a script editor, he would laugh.

“What kind of writing is this?” said surprised. Looking at my old records, it's just khalayan.

Where there is, so join the script editor that willing to spend his precious time just to stare at the writing like that, not paid anyway. Eating wind, bloating and maybe the hull will grow like a balloon that rises into the clouds and erupts, breaking into the beak of a bird. Fall to the ground and yes that's the end of the story.

My writing was ugly, I almost laughed too and yeah it was the umpteenth time I could see it turning to dust.

Day to day, month to month and year to year. This to me was like a surprise I found, my first love letter to her that I have not sent to date. Upps.is not a love letter, but rather a longing letter for him that has long had no news. It should have been reversed, I was the one who had no news at the time. With the strangeness of the word I want to change with wah, but can not because it is lebay and I do not like in the real sense.

And my writing was more and more out of sync, it was a weird thing that when I saw that I was scratching my head and sitting on one of the murmuring benches. Why did I write this note? The grip of my hand in holding it is quite tight. That was also my light question staring at such writing.

I haven't changed much about what I said just that, about my writing still falling apart as Jazu said, I better probably just bury it inside.

You know my real name is Narak and that I made it stand for different people out there who do not have a name extension, Narration of Longing.

I always miss Wapta. According to the name of the extension I made. Narrative of longing for Wapta. If Wapta is different, it's not his real name.

The narrative of this longing is none other than to one beloved empress woman in the room of the heart. He is the Wapta I shortened without being known by him.

The incident after a long time became a memory that will always make me smile and happy, in the past when he laughed laughs at me when I fell and there was a disaster from the bike. The weather was cloudy, the accident was embarrassing.

I was late for the promise of a hundredth time to help water the neighbor's plants, which to me was complicated. In fact, the day is cloudy, the plant may not need to be flush, rain water may soon come down to greet him.

My bicycle tire fell into one of the holes. Is that his name? Sidewalk, maybe gutter or something? I don't know his name, please laugh, I don't know much. Exactly the tire of my bike was mired there, Wapta in front of me rubbed my chest, shocked not dumb. But he laughed shortly.

Surely when when he saw me scratching his head and justifying the position of the bike that ended up getting dirty. I told you I fell off the bike, it was just the bike, and I was lying nearby, almost.

Wapta when he saw me who was scratching his head and awkward, he laughed. “Pity you, Nar. So if you step on that bike, do not hurry. Tuh, it's stray to the dirty place, that's the result you're not careful and not focused.”

I can only grunt mangut grinning, not knowing how to explain to him, it is impossible to explain everything honestly. It's about and feelings, man.

If I explain at that time my bike was looking at the look on the face of Wapta at that time. Makes me nervous for the umpteenth time the nervousness I'm having. My bike even targeted one of the dirty places as Wapta said. Thankfully, my clothes were not, only my bike with its two tires in a dirty place.

Satisfied with laughing, he finally helped me justify the chains that had been dislodged due to being hit by a field of sidewalks or gutters or something. Precisely hard objects collide one side to the side until the chain is dislodged from its place. Eh? Undone, for some reason the diction is less than appropriate, though, perhaps more precisely off the chain from its sharp teeth which is about 43 the number of serrations that make the chain connect and when stepped on (in my local language) he darted, running like a racer cat, run, why don't I call it a horse?

For me, two-wheeled vehicles are horses and bikes without engines. Maybe, just like a cat's run, I don't know.

Ribet. Moreover, the memory was faint, the one thing I remembered was that I never expected in my life. My first day of school in one of Junior High School, I never thought of being helped by one of the people I had been watching for a long time in silence, always watching and waiting for the look of his smiling face, I always looked at him, from then on I started everything, venturing out after finishing justifying the position of the chain, at that time I confidently called it Wapta, without the slightest awkwardness.

“Thank you, Wapta.” The first sentence I started with a cut on the face, the sweetest smile—maybe.

I forgot what expression I put on at the time maybe scratching my head while feeling happy to have been helped by it. My smile is not gone. Exactly seven days and seven nights, the moment was unceasingly grateful.

The woman in front of me looked in surprise and I guess she didn't take that name. Am I a fortune teller? No, mate. I told you this was a flashback story from my own life that I was writing.

That is the reason why I often call it sometimes precedes nature in telling stories as if I knew what happened, obviously I am not a fortune teller, he said, but only a young student with a simple problem about the past who has a problem in shaking the mind of thoughts, feelings and love that I still hold until now, never lost. Love for me is the greatest gift.

Wapta stopped with his hand. “Eh? What did you say? Can, I hear it again once, I misheard it or how or are you mengingau?”

Wapta said so. I reasoned what I needed to mention again, but he urged and well, I relented and was forced to make up a reasonable reason for all this to be clear. First of all, when it was telephoned, it mentioned this and it was about a chain that was good as before and could be stepped on (in my regional language) and so I could continue to step on it to meed back on the road, it did not escape thanks to the help of him who at that time helped justify the chain that escaped from the serration of the bicycle. After explaining, that was when I said it back exactly as before.

Yeah—berthank you with the exact same phrase calling Wapta. I repeated the previous sentence, without wanting to explain more and struggled longer in search of answers.

“Wapta? Is it possible that you've been mengingau during the day like this, so I didn't hear it wrong. You call me Wapta? Have you never known me, you also know my name is not Wapta, carelessly!”

The tone of his speech was once famous ketus and since long ago I noticed it. I don't know, how it is now between time and change. Wapta seems to have changed a lot, even when the letter first came to the land of White Elephants, the language is neat with so I know maybe now and used to have changed a lot from one thing to another. I don't why would it be.

The title was not necessarily I was insulting someone, it was a form of honor that I gave directly to someone, no matter who it was. Like Jazu, that's not his real name. Jazu stands for Term of the Urban Age.

Only I know what Urban Age Term is. I refuse to explain it, later if Jazu reads this writing, even he is excited by the name I gave.

The wapta then looked a little astonished. He's sinking. “Degree, weird?” His eyes seemed to hint at an oddity.

“That's not weird, Wapta. That's an honorary title you should know, that title I've given you.” I'm dramatic, seriously.

It was indeed a very noble honorary title before my eyes.

For me and if you know Wapta, it is not just an abbreviation of honor, but also that is my greatest love for you. You're the one I gave the title Wapta—Love Queen.

This is the meaning of the name of the title I gave you at the time. For a moment to eliminate the awkwardness between me with him, I switched the topic of talking about other things for various reasons and the matter of the extension of the name of the Wapta was never once mentioned to him, I never once said to him, he was fishing for me, though.

Wapta started to grumble. “I can't believe anything you're so cool saying, plus now you're even twisted. Isn't it obvious you're just saying nonsense!”

Hearing that was true as well, I was too over capacity in speech. For a moment I stopped my mouth that had spoken, continued staring coolly.

“Wapta, I guess you don't know the real meaning of the name, do you? That's special for you.”

I used to know why when talking to Wapta, the nervousness that I had did not prevent me from speaking, more freely expel the contents of my mind.

“Special? Yes—ya, if it is special, then what does it mean, explain to me!” Wapta stopped grumbling, like a person in a curious atmosphere, he asked.

He asked me like he made sure of the meaning of the name.

I had no intention of telling him that, “I told you it was special, only I know what it means.”

“You are outrageous! Don't ever make me curious. Quick, tell me or your bike I'm pouring into the rice field!” Wapta was glaring, sharper looking at me.

The world is in the daytime, the sun is covered in cloudy clouds and passing vehicles. Before when I fell and the bike was mired in the sidewalk or the gutter or whatever it was called, there was no one. The alley was quiet and now I can stare at people several times, passing vehicles and Wapta who glared a little less felt the atmosphere of horror.

Makes me laugh again, the rice fields are not here. That's a road that is often passed by vehicles, where is there rice fields? It couldn't possibly be, just the reason Wapta was excessive. One of them is a train line near here, which is far away for tens of kilometers, there is only rice fields. And it was far away, the railroad took a new thirty-minute trip to the rice fields.

“You were surprised to be able to laugh hearing my words earlier calling the rice fields. Introduce, it was the rice field, the name of the train station I gave him the title of, exactly you gave me the title Wapta. Satisfied laughing? You're gonna put this bike on the train tracks and you know it's gonna smash it and crush it. I said are you satisfied with laughing? Are you satisfied laughing?”

His voice just paled, well this is complicated. I slightly slowed down the sound of strong laughter so as not to overdo it.

“You are fierce, but I like your fierce attitude. Oh, ja. Meaning of the name Wapta it is in the sky brightly lit.” For a moment I stopped explaining. Why is my mouth like a madman saying?

“You know Andromeda Galaxy, billions of light travels. Wapta, it is...,” I continued back to stop, thinking about it.

Come on, I never wanted to say that before and why my mouth speaks for itself calling the Andromeda Galaxy, billions of light travels. Is it because of nervousness? That sucks, man. What's your mouth? You why? How can my mouth say to go there.

Really, that's not what I meant. The meaning of the name Wapta is the Beloved Empress. That's what I mean, maybe because of the stale bases that make my mouth talk in all directions. Wapta looked at me not playing.

“What is it?” Wapta raised the volume of the voice, seemingly curious as to what the previous words I said to him meant, not really important.

“I don't know.” I laugh like a possessed madman.

“You just accept. Refusing to give others is redundant,” I continued to give a word amplifier, redundant like food that can be hugged.

Wapta increasingly glared sharply, squeezing the word mubazir I said. That's what I'm saying, I admit it and try to explain other things and you know I never thought in my mind and all my feelings and soul that in the end Wapta received the title I gave.

I cheered in the loudness I could, still maintaining all the shields so as not to be discovered.

Yes, she was Wapta, the Beloved Empress, back then only I knew.

At that time I was more free to talk to him using fluent language as if without burden, different now with a stiff style and unable to blend with the surrounding environment.

This seems to be it, I have remembered it a lot. It was the past that Lita Aksima said I should be able to forget about her and live this life always with a smile, steadfastly accepting.

My own prayer on a lonely night, no one knows. What phrase? And what do I ask the Owner of the Universe. For me now, remembering what it was for too? If I think I always lose the debate.

I remember an old story. The stone I threw on the wall. It sounded in the ears, the sense of guessing, baby I think it turned out no, it was just hit by a buffer board.

Mirage mixed with imagination. With an unsubstantiated guess.

I am tired of wanting to give up. In a world that is no longer the same, in a self that no longer exists. Several times people have talked about this and that, seeming important in my life one by one after now they have left, even when I realized my mistake. I'm sorry about this so many times, about all things, I feel how bitter and bitter the taste of my breath. Lirihku was silent, self who thrashed pity in the level of stairs, high touching the moon plain to make me crashing in the never-ending daydream. About the light and the gaze that is just a memory.