In the cold air that slid under the door.
Or in lines of old poetry translated from the language.
In a pair of homeless eyes that resembled the window for months had not been cleaned up.
Or in the colorful balloons that break away from the hands of a boy.
Eventually you go and I'll find you in the streets.
Or empty park benches.
I found you in the snow that covered the city
Like a literature library.
I found you in coffee outlets, air, and the smell of food that came out or was too ripe.
I found you lying in my empty room.
When I came home with the camera on my head
Contains people who I do not know pulung.
You're listening to the song you always play.
A story book you have not read yet.
Pile up like wood on my chest.
Disrespect I said doing things but still sadness.
Eventually you are lost, you leave me.
And these memories are the only remaining sap roots.