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.

My Photo
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.

Saturday, October 28, 2006

A wisdom words?

"Sharing a misery is half of the misery itself, while sharing a happiness is double of the happiness itself." - a swedish saying.

Monday, October 16, 2006

Rose

Rose is still a rose what ever its name are...

Sunday, October 15, 2006

The Old Man Walking

The old man is walking slowly,
draging his old feet away one by one,
his old rugged cloth is wet by his sweat,
but his eyes is shine and focus ahead,
under the smiling sun upon his straw hat,
he breathe the hot air heavily for each step he take,
dusty road made his old face wrinkle even more,
with the weight of his bag on his back,
he keep walking ahead, slowly,
keep dragging his old feet away one by one,
he stopped once a while to resting his shoulder,
then he's wandering to his wife back home,
but whenever her smile comes to his mind,
he get the load up and worked his old feet again,
with a smile on his face he walk again, slowly,
in his mind he see his wife smile for him,
when he came home with some rice in his bag,
and she cooked dinner for both of them,
so he can say how good the dishes was,
to share the same old stories and laugh together,
so the old man walking again, slowly,
draging his old feet away one by one.

Friday, October 13, 2006

My Memories

They're not really exist cuz they're inside your head,
and there's no life or dreams without them,
they became stories when you believe in them,
when others start to believe in them too,
they became history...,
but when they changed lives of many people,
they become legend...,
that's why people live their live and dreams with them,
hope they had some stories to tell to,
so their live had some meaning to this universe,
I'm also one of those people,
and my story started when I met you,
you are my memories...