Early summer.
I'm at the airport right now. Nope, not O'hare, not Union Station (obviously), I'm in Jogja, on my way back to Jakarta. I spent a week here, visiting my old life. It sounds so dramatic, but I've always been so dramatic. It felt quite strange coming back here, it felt like a distant memory while it was only last year that I left this city. I passed almost all of the roads I used to pass every single day in the past five years, the mountain I used to capture, the food, the shops, the office, all the people who used to cheer with me, one of my closest friends left this city, I didn't really feel like hanging in a cafe and have a long reflective talk, instead, I got a bunch of books that I really wanted to finish and luckily, I at least finished one. It's so strange to be a guest in your own home, I wish I could tell Garik about this feeling cause Jogja had always been our home, but now, I guess not anymore. Perhaps I told you before about how much people love me. I...