Source: Pixabay, modified
You can call me Batavia. I was a boy who lived in Indonesia. Reading and writing were like eating and breathing for me. My headphones accompanied me everywhere I go: took a walk around the block or catching the bus, eating lunch or trying to keep my head up in class, raining all day or a breezy night.
I lived in this city, a place where glass towers and old white houses met. Clouds poured rain almost everyday and roads overshadowed people living here.
My school was located in the middle of the cramped houses and wide open park. A three-story building with dusty walls and dull-colored floor. This was where most of my stories took place.
From now on I will tell you my story. This is true stories. I have to change places and names to keep people's privacy. I will write in Bahasa Indonesia. Maybe someday I will write in other languages.
I hope you enjoy my story.
