Smell of cempaka, smell of incense, smell of prayers. Early morning without sound. That silent longing. I see the sea through the taxi window. I see a pour memories coming into like the waves. I see those waves everywhere I look. But there was not lost. Or even that tinged of pain. It was surprising. I felt like standing in a small island and in a very vast sea without ending. I remember the Pacific. The blue sky. The golden shine of sand. The heat of the very best summer. I might eat some flowers with some coconut water. Silent prayers are everywhere and I was just still knowing, that I’m sitting in a taxi. Touching and standing in this very ground after three long years.
A sound of bell turn out to be the sound of a very dear friend. Who have been spending time very far away. Every time I see him, I see that small pinkish lotus flower tattoed in his right arm. It is like seeing a sign every time I remember him. And a hug feels like forever. Did I just come home then? Did that just feel like home?
Those smell of grass, waiting for the rain to come. Silent conversation at the very odd hours. I see mountains rise through his eyes when we were telling our stories and journeys. I remember some promises to be at the far away land. It feels not far anymore. In so many loses somehow we meet again to gain something out all the events of our lives.
I hear death knocking in every birth. That the sound of baby crying is the same of wailing. Women, women wome. Everywhere they always cry. At my son’s birth all these women before me came, gather and surrounds me. I just see my life flashes in seconds. I felt an earthquake coming through my body. An another being born amidst all cries. Did a cry always help you to feel better? Or to be better? I smell jasmine sometimes without reasons. And sometimes the urge to let go everything comes when I saw the South Sea. That feeling, the coming back to a mother’s womb.
Kintamani – Batur, 20th July 2012