*from kafka on the shore by haruki murakami, p.11.
wearing a guy's cardigan as a dress, just in case you're curious. the photograph was taken by my sister using her berry, and we were on the way to pasar senggol, a special event in grand hyatt nusa dua in which they mix BBQ-based dinner and cultural dance. the dance that night was legong, in which the dancers wore rich-colored clothes, accessories, and most of the dancers were very, very young: children below 15.
anyway, gonna make a worthy post soon. meanwhile, it's good only to lay down for a while, gaze emptily at the sky, imagine myself as one of the clouds hanging around the dense blueness of the sky. sometimes i wish i could run away, though, from everything; being an insane strangers rummaging through the streets without getting arrested. ah, dreams of youth that will probably never come to pass— and that's where it gets hurt.
there's a phrase by cartoonist/ blogger Hugh MacLeod: "as a children, we're given a box of crayons each" and the impression lingers in me until today, really. why do we, as adults, sometimes choose to think that dwelling in this society where most of the things are stifled—including creativity— is eventually a better choice instead of being a person who's totally unfettered, free like a young eagle?
