in between black and white
I see her once more. There is something familiar from the way she smile: ear to ear.
I see her once more. There is something peculiar from the way she speak: heart to heart.
I see her once more, I know sadness will never get born.
I see her once more, I know madness will never get core.
Her smile could travel many miles.
Her eyes could never tell lies.
“Home is a name, a word, it is a strong one; stronger than magician ever spoke, or spirit ever answered to, in the strongest conjuration.” – Charles Dickens
My nostrils are dancing happily because of this sweet smell: the smell of a hot cup of coffee blend with cinnamon. I really love to taste the bitterness from that cup so I look around to find the source. The smell is coming from a house in the left corner of the street at where i stand now, which looks so familiar to me. The house is a two story house painted grey with a black fence and someone has left the front door ajar – probably the reason why I could smell the coffee.
The strangely familiar feeling inside me pushes me toward the house. Now I am standing so close with the house and realize its front yard is full of blooming jasmines and black roses, the gate also left ajar and I can see the path lead to the front door. My feet keep taking steps drawing my body closer to knock on the slightly open door- leaving my mind wondering what makes me doing something that so not me. My confused face is reflected in a man’s face that answers my knock. My rational mind tells me to apologize and to leave the house immediately but something in my heart makes me stand still and stare to the man’s brown eyes. Yes, I just stare to a strange man’s eyes and adore what I see. I must have eaten something wrong this lunch because I am acting so weird now.
“Can I help you?” ask the man nicely after he recovered from his confusion.
“Hm.. I don’t know, I smell your coffee from over there and my subconscious brought me here.. When I recovered, my hand already knocked on your door and here I am, standing in front of you, staring at your beautiful eyes and mumbling nonsense.” My own ears is amazed by my answer. I must have lost my mind because I never talk like that to a man before, moreover to a strange man I know nothing about.
“What a straight answer, I don’t know how to respond to that one. I guess my coffee is the one responsible for your awkwardness and it makes me feel that I owe you one cup. Come here then… if you want to, of course.” The man smiles, showing his bright white teeth. Oh My GOD, I am noticing his teeth now, what else will happen to me after this? The coffee needs to be very strong to wake me from this trance state.
I sit on the single sofa beside the front window while the man vanished to the back side of the house, probably to brew me one cup of his coffee or maybe he is calling 911 to inform them that his house is invaded by a strange woman. My eyes are scanning the living room. The whole wall is painted white but one side of the wall- the one directly in front of me -mostly covered by black and white photographs in black frames: the exact way I want to decorate my own house. The familiar feelings creep back inside me. I turn my eyes to another side of the wall because I feel my tears are coming. On my left side, I see the front door – the one that left ajar – and one big window beside each side of the door, are all in the black and white monochrome colors. Minimalist style with much space left empty and a giant vase stands alone in my right side.
Almost five minutes until the man is coming back to living room bringing my coffee. The same sweet smell filled the air and my heart feels warm. He offers me the coffee but my hand is shaking heavily that I couldn’t take the cup. Suddenly, not only my hand but all of my body is shaking, as if it is shaken by an invisible person and I feel my eyes are full of tears now.
“Honey, are you okay?” I hear a voice asking me softly but it’s a different voice from the man before and I also feel a hand caressing my cheeks as if trying to calm me down. I open my eyes to see my brother face full of concern and his eyes is softening when meeting my eyes.
“Yes, I guess I am okay now. I’ve just had a dream, a nice one actually”, I told him as calm as I can, trying to assure him that I am okay even if I’m not really okay right now. I know now why the house looks familiar to me, because that was my burnt house and the man with a cup of coffee was the love of my life.
“Of him?” My brother ask tenderly.
“and our warm home. I am home again..”
It is an edited version.
My plane has just landed. I step onto familiar surroundings. The heat feels familiar. The sky looks familiar. Everything looks familiar as if nothing has changed in this city. It feels like yesterday, even though I’ve left this city for years. The arrival lounge is also similar to my memories of it, men holding the name-tag, people offering a rent car or queuing for taxi. Everything seems frozen in time.
I walk to my assigned meeting point, through some kind of underground tunnel, connecting the airport and the parking lot. I love this tunnel, it is large with a minimalist ornaments. It gives me a calm feeling with its pastel paint. Sounds from the railway above it give me thrill sensation, like I am going to crash the train. I wait for a driver from my client’s company outside the tunnel and when I look around me, I realize that the parking lot is larger than I ever remember. Finally, a minor change that reminds me this city is no longer the same.
Traffic outside the airport is not so crowded, maybe because it is an early Saturday morning. The driver asks me whether I want to stop for breakfast. I don’t feel hungry, but a cup of coffee would be nice. He stops in a small coffee vendor not so far from the airport. I feel glad that this driver is not a chit-chat person, I already feel exhausted with all the memories that are flooding my mind since I arrived here, in Yogyakarta, a city once I loved so much.
The sun is shining so bright this morning, but the breeze is cool and the coffee taste so good. Lovely morning, if I don’t remember that I am in a city where my worst nightmare happened.
Clear horizon with Mount Merapi as background takes me to years ago when I arrived here for the first time. Nearly 10 years ago. I remember coming here with high spirit and big hope, exploring this city with a great excitement and laughed at everything I never see in my hometown. I hope I can re-experience those feeling again, maybe those are the remedy for my bitterness feeling of this city.
Yogyakarta. Special District. Cultural City. Full of students, from around Indonesia and overseas. Famous for its diversity. Famous for its myths. It has an imaginary line that goes straight from Mount Merapi to Kraton Ngayogyakartahadiningrat (Yogyakarta Palace) and finish in Parangtritis Beach. The most southern part of yogyakarta is a line of beaches. Many beautiful beaches.
My mind takes me to one fine afternoon, when my thesis deadline was getting closer and i didn’t have enough spirit to finish it on time. Instead of writing it, I drove my car to Depok Beach. I love Depok Beach even though the sand is not white but it has fish market which sell fresh fish from the sea. I arrived at the beach in time to watch the sun started to set. Magnificent. The sky’s color was changing from bright blue to orange and finally lost in the darkness of night. I love spending my early night at that beach. Fishermen were getting ready for night fishing. People were packing their bags to go home. Sea waves were getting higher and the sound of the wave soothed my chaotic mind. I felt calm and my mood was much better when I came home that night. I am longing for that place, even more, I am longing for that calm feeling. I am longing for my happiness.
The car is back on the street, smoothly driven to Malioboro Street. The most famous tourist destination in Yogyakarta. The place where my client is waiting for the briefing. I guess Depok Beach has to wait a little longer.
This is for the Day 2 assignment of writing 101. Can you see Yogyakarta as I see it? It is actually a fiction and I intend to keep it going through this month challenge.. day by day
This is it, the day 2 challenge is finally here. It was a hard one, tho. I need to keep my promise to keep up with this Zero to Hero thingy.
Do you like my new title?
Do you get my new tagline?
I really need a feedback.. I’ve been lost for sometime, finding and building an identity for this blog. This is my escape route from my routine and my reality. I found my other self while blogging here.
This blog is indeed a journey of mine. A journey that feed my soul to keep me alive. The first title of this blog is “and the heart isn’t unheard” which I love the most, and still use it as my tagline many time offline.
The second title, which was written just a couple of months ago is “pick your own dose of bitterness”. I choose that because of my writing express the stormy mood, so it is surely has a rhythm of bitterness on it.
After reading the Day 2 assignments, I roll my mind and rethinking my title and tagline. Mirroring all that I’ve post here, my mind then come up with a soulful journey….
That was my journey to finally make a whole new identity for my alter ego home. Hope you all as excited as I am now…
*cheers*
The DarkJasmine 