Walking down the road

It is the rain of my soul and poured when the storm raging in my mind. When feelings and logics are tangle between right or wrong and win or lose. They are raising many funny questions and silly confusions along the line. These all are happening because I'm walking down the road I choose.

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Name:
Location: Paris van Java, West Java, Indonesia

I was born in Bandung, April 1976, and spent most of my education time in that same city. Living in a cool town with a moderate muslim family, somehow become important factors that carving my character. I'm a big fan of any satay, pempek and rujak (anything sweet-lah), and I created this notes as a place where I can write everything that crossed my mind. This writing is more like a journal, footsteps I leave behind as reminder mostly for myself and probably for my descendants. If you, readers, able learning one or two good things from this notes, that was really more than my expectation. Yet if I wrote something wrong or you have different opinion from mine, please let me know, will you? You also have to excuse me for that matter because I'm aware I'm no writer at all.

Tuesday, May 31, 2005

Grass story

Do you know grass my friends?
green long thin plant on the field
have you ever felt sorry for them?
bending touching the ground,
blow by the fierce wind,
burn by the fierry fire,
but don't feel sorry for them,
because you know what my friends?
they never break not even once,
their root themself to the ground so strong,
so they'll never go anywhere,
when the fire comes,
they hide their seeds underground,
growing more strong generations,
from their own ashes,
all they need is a little bit water,
all they need is a little bit sunshine,
just a little bit, is enough for them,
to grow and conquer the vast fields again,
just like before,
so learn something from them my friends,
because I did.

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