Frivolous Scribbles

Bukan masalah jarak yang tak dapat ditempuh, bukan juga masalah situasi yang tak dapat diubah, melainkan hal-hal bodoh seperti siapa yang menertawakan lawakanku, siapa yang memberiku nasihat (meski buruk sekalipun), dan siapa yang begitu memperhitungkan pendapatku. Suaramu mungkin tak lagi terdengar, namun lantunan lagu ini belum berakhir. Ini masalah perjalanan, bukan tujuan.

mungkin lain kali,

Andri Kurniawan

There she was sitting in the usual place, reading the usual book, wearing the usual white shirt and pair of blue jeans, and of course her usual brown shoes. But, she was never more beautiful than this, it's like I can't even take my eyes off of her anymore.

She is as charming as Beethoven's Piano Sonata No. 14 in C-sharp minor "Quasi una fantasia", Op. 27, No. 2—or should I say, Moonlight Sonata—that first struck me as...good. But then, the more I listened it, the more I grew to love it. She was arranged as perfect as the bridge, even though few actually adored the part. She is that beloved.

She is as lovely as Perseids meteor shower, there to make my dark nights lighter. As I try to fathom my limitless yearning of her intricate laughter. I fell for her as fast as memoirs of space disintegrate through the atmosphere, before they rain down to the ground and stay. Stay as long as the theories of universe itself exists. She is that timeless.

She is as beauteous as lyre flowers, enough to make my heart bleed. And she would bloom all year round, because even if the petals wither, her presence within me will not falter. The scent of her would weaken me, bringing me down to my knees, a poisonous aroma that I can never get away from. She is that enticing.

She is you, the spring breeze that blew away the leaves of my fall, the summer heat that warmed me through the snows of my winter. And until I meet you in the perfect time of the year, I just want you to stay near. For I can never explain all the secrets of the universe to you, but I can tell very well what I have for you.

the rain doll in the midst of storm,

Andri Kurniawan

Reminiscing the stars, with sailing ships they align

a bottle full of wine, but empty with time,

Andri Kurniawan