Thanks, Allah for today! Please ignore my complaints; they are mostly coming as post menstrual signals or ummm when these hormones are truly testing me. 🥰
Thanks for the yummy food and for the good mood.
Salaam.
—

graphs of my Universe
Thanks, Allah for today! Please ignore my complaints; they are mostly coming as post menstrual signals or ummm when these hormones are truly testing me. 🥰
Thanks for the yummy food and for the good mood.
Salaam.
—

Used to read the Indonesian version of Asterix comics, I become curious of the English one. So I bought one in Surabaya airport and almost completed reading it during flight.
The story is of course the same but interestingly the names attributed to some characters are different. Maybe it is to match with how the names of characters with certain personality traits are described in local language that suits more to the “locally logical thought”. It is almost the same case with “adapted names” in other translated comics (Disney comics, Tintin, etc). I don’t know, am just guessing.
Re-reading this comic has given me so much space to feel that I am not more than a human being that can feel so stressed with just a tip of taste of sadness and need a very light touch of humour to trigger laughter. 😊
Thanks, Grandpa Goscinny and Grandpa Uderzo. 💝





Cloudy day’s hotter.
It keeps heat float on the soil,
inviting grand rain.
—

Colours, hues, shades, tints
In a garden strike the eyes
Wandering within.
—
I am on an emergency short leave to visit my mother as my mother is sick. A sister called saying “she doesn’t want to eat”, “she can’t sleep well”, “she doesn’t want to visit her doctor”, “she thinks it is her time”, blahblahblah…. Alamak! Although sometimes we think she can be a drama queen, we start to think seriously when she can’t sleep well.
The second day of my visit she already watered her plants that line along my sister’s narrow garden. She sang along while walking in her house. She ate one big chunk of fast food’s fried chicken that my nephews insisted taken away for her. She has been back to her nature after meeting her children and grandchildren whom she missed who are now laughing with her at every breakfast, lunch and dinner time.
This morning she happily greeted the newspaper lady delivering her favourite “Jawa Pos”, the lady said “good morning, Ibu, you look radiant again”. She also had a short chat with her front neighbour about rain, cats and plants.
I think sometimes you just need to meet someone to be healthy. 💗
Yesterday morning I joined her watering the plants and took pictures of some of the blooms that have always made us all smile.
Salaam.







How does it taste?
It is as whimsical
As walking up
An alp
In a rainy night.
It is as real
As tasting
A styrofoam
In a hot day.
—

What can a gift do?
Dance in the heart of friendship,
Rest in the friends’ soul—
—
Kinokuniya has much bigger collection than the bookstore in Changi airport; yet the books I buy for my friends are all from this airport. Is it because my search of books wanted by friends is always ready here? Or is it impulse buying? 😂
It doesn’t matter which one as long as it is for a good friend.
Salaam.

This corner is quiter,
Sitting on a placid lake,
Where still water
Hides a huge secret
Called love,
Is covered with a vast blanket
Called peace.
This corner is cozy,
Getting warmer and calmer,
Where a cat
Curls in a bed
Called dream,
Is lullabied with long slumber
Called hope.
How peaceful it is
Pampered with a life
Called humble.
Salaam.
—

Once upon a time
It began with
A mess,
Completed with
An expertise.
And it’s been tested
through space and time.
—



There is a limit in every move. Seek it with no end but a twist in the middle.
—

Sufficiently served—
Each season presents a gift
That is grateful for.
—



It is easy to say “that I should love all”; yet it is not that easy as to finally love easily in life as it takes a long process, including to understand what love is, how to express the love, to whom I should express it, how much love I should share, etc before it becomes my commitment to love.
To me everyday is love day, no matter how much love I can feel flowing in my veins. Today several love wishes came from some friends. Good to share with more people.
💕
—-












Find your gifts,
Share them
With those you love
Around you.
You must have them
As no one is missed.
—
Thanks for all the gifts. 💝

It might not be clear
As the mirror is not clean.
Reflection of
You on me
Is as clear as the song sung by the breeze,
Whistling softly
On to these eardrums.
Swoosh!
You whisper,
I could hear,
We both share unvoiced laughter.
Is that our smiles
Or grins
That we both share from miles away?
You
Are playing so well,
I
Stay hugging this heart
That shrinks with
Your coldness,
That shines with
Your old shadow.
Dear, heart.
Stay flawless mirror.
With you I see
Beloved.
Be it beast or beauty,
My love is worth reflecting clearly.
—
Melody of my soul
That I wish to connect to
You
Has flown away.
I see
You
Sing another melody
Not even of my tunes.
Love is unforceable.
Sweetly I can smile.
Amazingly I can pray.
These steps are farther and farther
Pushed away by
Your icy melody to me.
—
Floating and flowing
As is. Stones and whirls push her
To the sea of love.
—

Rain is beautiful. Its drops slip between her hair, washing off sadness.
—

Rice is cooked to be rice. It’s the same name, yet not the same. Raw then cooked—
—

Not under the bed, it’s what she’s slept with since she was a cute baby.
—
What is love day?
A day when love is precious?
Only once a year?
How stingy human being is!
To express love only on that day—
Maybe they are afraid
Of saying love to
That they love dearly.
Maybe expression is
Embarrassing and too low
That they dump it cruelly.
Maybe love is considered a myth
Scientifically unproven
That it is skipped.
Maybe….
So much maybe.
I will still love
You
In silence
As
Love has made my heart pretty
Although rejection and ignorance
Once made it ugly.
All days are my love days.
To my
Beloved—
—








—
Remembrance about the beloved is river flowing to the sea.
Feathers fall off from the wings of flying-high birds. Dreams ready to catch—
—

This heart sings. Its notes witness through pitch and tempo. Genres of the soul—
—

This heart is flowing fluid
Filling the soul with
Redness of bravery
And rage;
Pinkness of romance
And lust;
Orangeness of warmth
And attention craver;
Yellowness of glory
And jealousy;
Greenness of tranquility
And envy;
Blueness of peace
And mourning;
Whiteness of singularity,
And fear;
Blackness of mystery
And death.
When the soul blinks,
A spectrum ray chutes down
On to the ocean of mind,
Illuminates what’s to solve.
Is your face dyed as your heart is dyed, Beloved?
And your words
Your footsteps
Your breaths
Touch?
Or, layers of curtains shade your true colours?
—

Green everywhere accompanies traveler on the way to a gate.
—

The day is aglow, as radiant as garden with colourful grows.
—
With green as background….





The wind flies dry leaves to where travel’s light and memory’s full. Well done—
—










All have right to live, yet some by greedily eating up others. Sigh.
—



What’s broken’s broken until connected again. Never be the same—
—

There’s always a home for a wanderer. Sweet home— Sweeter than sugar.
—


Keeping afloat, buoyant freely swaying playing the waves in the sky—
—
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