“Droplets are gentle and observant. They always hit on you, but it never hurts. Even though they are falling, they never waste their time observing everything around them. Everything is like being absorbed into it. If you able to see through a droplet, you might be able to see the future…”
A woman, lost her way in an empty street. Singing for the rain to go away. Missing her mother’s words. Wondering if those words are true. Smiling and daydream at the middle of the street. Sound of all the places echoed around her.
At the shop opposite the road, smoke coming out from the chimney. Scent of muffin could smell from far, not the nice one of cause.
“Those muffins sure are sad. Everyday being create and everyday get abandon by the chef. Those chefs are not meant to be chef. Muffins are batik-like. Process was never been easy. In the end, they sure are colorful, but no one wants them. They are totally “batik”. Unwanted traditional food. I bet those chefs are from the city.”
Yellowish sculpture that always stays hidden besides the muffin shop. Hard work and passion that always stays hidden.
“The small and round owner is always working there. Even now, everyone is asleep. What is his problem of staying up so late? All of his works are impressive; I wish he could be recognized thou. I wonder why art people always stay up late. It’s just human figure. Get hold of yourself. Passion, passion and passion, this words always their answer and reply to everything. I bet his apprentice is listening to Jay Chou 七里香, track no. 3. Why don’t they get bored of it?”
Rain is getting heavier. “Where is my home?” she asked herself.
“Hey, girl! Yes! you! Faster go home, it’s not safe here, the British might catch you! Beware of their power, listen to me, go to the jung…”
“Here comes the crazy old beggar. Bla bla bla, communist shit. Wake up from your miserable life, for heaven sake. The emergency is like the retro back then, now is not fucking
“let’s boicot the Brutish company. Kill all those ang mo! Are you listening? Because of people like you, our country is dying!” scolded the old man outside the cyber café, crawling towards the alley beside the café.
“Haih, what was that just now? Talking to that nuisance. Is like that aunty talking to the computer in that cyber café. Why everyone is so weird.” She paused. Staring into the café’s dark tinted glass that creates an illusion of herself in it.
“ It can’t be help I guess. She’s been talking to student like that for 5 years before she open this shop. I wonder how she ends up here. I guess she lost her students work and get fired.”
Behind the alley lies a construction site. Workers construct it with lines. Forming squares by squares, from floor to walls, from rooms to banglo. How boring. No matter look at which perspective, everything is pure boredom. Mist is slowly covered up the building to the point where the construction is like vanish from her eye level.
Filthy air, filthy water, filthy street. Everything to her is just drama. Made up story, made up characters, made up scene. All of this all fake, because of all of this, her life turn out to be upside down. Crayon painting on wall by the children on the walls are even more truthful and sincere.
“But it’s okay, there always another day.” She whispered as the gentle rain started to stop, mist started to clear up.
“Dawn has arrived. Who says raining day is a bad day?”
From far behind, a boy watches her carefully. Breathing deeply. Hiding himself. This beauty was taken down through a camera. The girl notice, but she pretends. Smiling to herself inside the puddle of water, wondering “Is the picture gonna tell what I’m thinking now, what lies behind the flower might not going be truth you know?”
