JOURNAL, RETROSPECT

Inside a folded yellow paper,

You are an artist.

Artists are (more) curious souls who see the realm as field of creative expression, platform to create, and an endless vaults of opportunity. They know Being ; comprehend the idea that life without purpose is mere passerby of this realm.

Artists craft passions into reality and see no weakness in vulnerability; love without reservation, give their hearts completely and leave nothing on the table. They are naked and unashamed. They leave no room for pretension.

Artists choose to chase and indulged in their school of desires just so that they may authenticate Being ; by of course being a part of this cosmic wonder. Creating changes over and over ; cut this, paste that, hide this, layer that. Until changes become the only constant of a never-finished oeuvre, in which a mean to live life-that may break all forms of security.

altogether,

it’s a sensation, a blind creation

moving through your days done,

it got your heart stung <cont.>

Inside a folded yellow paper, I never had the chance to pass. 

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PHOTO DIARY

mohae!

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pocket park, always a good idea.

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cop them plants

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satu ruang

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sparks, many sparks, they burned my eyes.

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neon letters

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soft spot

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do not cut away my soul

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katanya ada nicholas saputra, katanya.

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2017-12-27 19:22:51.933

2017-12-14 14:41:35.112

jakarta asli

2017-12-07 09:08:56.521

b620

2017-12-23 15:57:56.651

fambeb

2017-12-06 17:24:36.309

karawaci

2017-12-23 20:11:05.553

pim december game

2017-12-12 17:44:48.994

mainan harus mikir

“These are the pieces of my youth,
small secrets and the not-so-great expectations
that defined my coming of age.”
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