Elevation by Stephen King: A Crisp Story of Tolerance

Yup, I read this on my old Kindle Keyboard

A middle-aged web designer named Scott lives in a small-town where words spread rapidly. That’s why he only tells his friend, Doctor Bob about strange phenomenon that happened to him. He’s losing weights although his looks stays the same. It doesn’t matter what cloths he wears or how heavy the things he bring to weight scale, his weight doesn’t change. Eat so many meals doesn’t help either. Only makes his beer belly fatter. Get more weird, his weight is steadily decreases.

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This Earth of Mankind by Pramoedya Ananta Toer

Note: I haven’t written the review yet.

Here, I’m easily connected with Minke. Not because like him, I’m also (at least have some) Javanese’s blood running through my veins, but because his love of writing, of observing, and by observing I don’t mean as a “I can’t participate because I’m an observer” fucking nonsense. Minke is a person I can get easily comfortable to speak my own chores, and listen to what he really thinks.

Because at his own complexities I know I find familiarity.
Thank you for teaching me about inner justice, Minke, thanks also for your french friend for saying it. I love writing and reading and they feel as warm as my blanket. They are my inner childs and now I let them at play far, far away from what I thought as myself.

On Writing in a Foreign Language

A necklace I bought from Yogyakarta. The scorpio had already dead before the maker made it.

By writing I don’t mean solely to write, it also means writing then showing it to the world with its millions of possibilities. I love to write, I’m not quite sure how it started. Maybe when I was 7 or 8, with a pencil in my hand, I found a ruled paper quite intriguing. Filling it with words was so satisfying.

I’m ashamed of myself by not letting my mind out of its cage. Yet I think I know now how it started. As for someone whose mind always wandering, sporadically, impolitely, fuck-offly, finding the right words in the right language to share is another form of voyage. Then here is why, no matter how absurd, how not-nationalist it might sounds, I find myself at home sharing what I’m thinking, smelling, hugging, loving, necking, fucking, kissing, seeing, falling, digesting in a foreign language.

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