says the Harlequin, his last words as he disappears from the stage of Geothe Huis. there we were, a row of misfits, trying to understand his Bergamo accent and Italian comedy and masks in general. A says to me, this is like wayang kulit, but we will never understand. A performance of the body, of expression, of giving. I too, would like to be in this kind of rapture.
i would like to give, and give a lot, but sometimes i carry all these words and feelings and thoughts, but nothing is ever uttered. there is love, but never expressed. terhad dalam segala sesuatu.
back with F, and he is, as always, well dressed. Ifa says to me that A is well dressed, but I begged to differ. Over breakfast of mangosteen and Starbucks pastry, as he was about to leave to Bangkok, and I, Kuala Lumpur, we finally retreated into his hole and tell each other truths which were kept so long. I, with my many woes, and he, with his confession that was about to come. I have long suspected this, with the trail of hot young men we meet over the course of X months and movie nights and all, but I am okay. This is the only explanation and outcome, anyway, and I shall come into terms with it. We tell each other we will miss each other, and will meet some other day, in some other part of the world, with my bicycle tucked under his table.
i tell this tale to the taxi driver on my way to the airport, and he just laughs at me, saying it is a disease. i say, i am no judge of anything, but i love him all the same.
back at F, again. He is away for work, and we spent the whole night just with each other and cuddling without a thought for the outside world. Some things are comforting, and this warmth, the familiar smell as you enter the car, all this hits me as something, a moment, is over. i collapse in this moment, that i say, i need to process my emotions, readjust into domestic life, readjust into having a husband, readjust into having him, readjust myself.
I still have to write my thesis, and this thought looms over me, nags over my thought, but my mind and my soul tells me I have moved on to something else. I am over with this, and must move on to bigger and better things. Of course, I have presented before my colleagues in Jakarta, but this feels more like a performance of utter farce. I just need to believe in it until it is over.
i do not know what luck do i have to deserve such kindness from other people who continue to fill me with warmth and love and hospitality, but this i shall carry within me and live as much as i can.
perkaraperkara 