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Remembrance about the beloved is river flowing to the sea.
graphs of my Universe
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Remembrance about the beloved is river flowing to the sea.
Feathers fall off from the wings of flying-high birds. Dreams ready to catch—
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This heart sings. Its notes witness through pitch and tempo. Genres of the soul—
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Green everywhere accompanies traveler on the way to a gate.
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The day is aglow, as radiant as garden with colourful grows.
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With green as background….





The wind flies dry leaves to where travel’s light and memory’s full. Well done—
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All have right to live, yet some by greedily eating up others. Sigh.
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What’s broken’s broken until connected again. Never be the same—
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There’s always a home for a wanderer. Sweet home— Sweeter than sugar.
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Keeping afloat, buoyant freely swaying playing the waves in the sky—
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Curated sources of knowledge is a vast deep ocean to dive in.
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A few from Topkapi Palace




Eyes blink to clean themselves, to not see things except Turkish evil eye.
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You don’t need so much love to find love around. Make it with a little love.
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Missing you is losing some pixels from mind; life becomes less vibrant.
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Fly. See land from above. Wide, broad, one whole. Bird eye, one gift from heaven—
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A journey starts. A journey ends. A route is colourful when observed—
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A loving visit beyond time and space. Salaam. Universe answers.
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One by one one makes dream come true one way or another. Best wishes.
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Nothing is wasted; only goes through cycles and uses. Or don’t use.
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Written on this soul, your footsteps making sweet songs sung by the green birds.
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Hi morning, let’s dance. Tell tomorrow I’m happy to dance in all tunes.
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Another new year with another long weekend. Added holiday—
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Laughter is the breeze caressing the hair waving to the morning sun.
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A posting landed on my Instagram’s Home, it was Charlie Chaplin’s small details that are meaningful to me who love to laugh but often fail to make jokes. Most of my jokes are garing (crispy-dry, not funny; Bahasa Indonesia slang). 😁
Salaam.





Any day can be sweet with some setting on the tongue. Avoid chilli.
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Pink roses in a vase welcome seven cold guests, turning them to smiles.
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Free will? What is that? This breath is what you blow in to me to love you.
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Realising more and more that her life is free of free will; she needs causes and reasons to do anything she does even for her brain to think about what things to think of— there is a bond invisible and invincible.
She surrenders to the bond. 💝
Happy weekend.
Salaam.

In a bright corner she’s seen. The sun sends her light reflecting bright life.
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How many tastes can she experience in joy? 5 or 7?
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Realising that the best taste is not any of those 5 or 7; the best taste is only 1: to love. 😊
Days of love be like…










Friday, this bright light blinks to the eyes not stopping staring at the heart.
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Dolls dance following the rhythm of the carver’s breath. Standing ovation—
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