The next morning, you want to hurry. Your legs are unbreakable. Flower expectations on your shoulders. Dreams cling to your back. You leave for the city, leaving behind the silence that keeps you from the crowd. You miss the hoot and greet. Hulls and parties. You want to stagger and fall off in a drunken mood. Also crave a sweetheart whisper from the owner of a pair of worshiping round eyes.
The way to the past is very winding. Doubts dance in your mind. Whispers keep teasing you. Continue. Back. Continue. Go home. The buzzing sentences fill your head like a bee crowd. You want to stop and surrender. At an intersection, you decide to move as fast as a bullet that shot toward the target.
The city air welcomes you like a hug. Your heart bounced up the long hallways crowded with crowds. You want to pick flowers that bloom in beautiful faces. You are dissolving in the colors of joy that fill the city. The call of the hawkers is like a musical parade in your ears. Conversations of people in the corner of the city invite your curiosity. Humming, singing and tetabuhan invite you to start dancing. You were transformed into a child with an indescribable merriment.
Morning, noon, until the evening, the city is a party. You're crazy about breakfast expectations and lunch figures. Evening dinners with luxury become the inevitable temptation. The hooter's bluster, the roar of the car, and the smoke are the thrilling symphonies. You want to fly to the star. Dreams in your mind take you on the moon's lap on the throne. You want to be an unforgettable monument in a civilization.
You begin to realize, in every excitement always tucked into pain. You find the shadow of bitterness scouting the city from all directions. It's an opportunity for you to light a lamp on every heart. Then you walk down the street. You meet people and hand out bundles of hope. One for each person. You're putting out anxiety that wants to steal their comfort. Rela sacrifice to be a faithful guardian for every city.
People are starting to worship you. They miss the hero who came from the far hill. Someone who will save the city from the threat of grief. It also keeps people away from the bitterness of dark colors. They hail you and worship you with all your soul. Your coming is the light of every door. You are like a flame in the hearts of the poor, beggars, and the outcast. Your presence liberates souls from anxiety.
Until one day, the sun shone fiercely above the city. His sting burned the whole city. People whimper thirsty. Their souls are floundering angrily. Some of them are crushed without power, and the rest continues to roil like water drowns that lead to eternal drought.
A week has passed. The sun did not stop. The city became more chaotic than usual. The crowd was centered in front of a giant, glass-walled building. A line of grim faces swirled in front of the building. They intend to entrust their last hope into a box in the courtyard, close it, then pray: God, keep the fear and the pain from our deaths.
You look at them with wonder. Death is similar to separation. They can celebrate with a wave of hands, tears, sadness or loneliness. Why should people leave their last hope in a box? The astonishment is increasingly wriggling when an elderly mother sobs in front of the gray wooden box. The woman seemed to ignore her surroundings. "O, my son, my oldest child, finally, death will bring us back together." The woman then cried for a moment.
You suspect, the old lady was craving a meeting with her dead old son. Mother and child separation is the most poignant thing in the world. You believe that even if you never see the face of the mother who gave birth to you. However, for you it is still a farewell. You expect to see the woman one day. You want to ask why you found a prostitute in the darkest aisle of the city (the reason you left town and settled on a hill).
Your mind wanders. You sit on the steps of the stairs to the entrance of the building. Watching the old mother satisfy her tears. After it was over, the old woman's face flushed happily. Trouble evaporated from the lines of his face. The old lady then left the courtyard and cried, "Thank you! The people then applauded with joy. It repeats every time, when someone has just finished his last hope.
The day crawls towards noon. People are still busy lining up behind the old mother. A man with a cigar, a sad little girl, a lonely-looking young man, and a row of other visitors. You do not get tired of watching them one by one. Then absorbs all the sadness that emanates from the faces of the parting owner. Each time, it gets more and more stifling. The wound in your heart slowly begins to spread and spread the scent of pain.
Then you start to remember, what's the biggest injury you've ever experienced? A face is remembered in your mind. Someone who ever taught you how to swallow the bitterness. Belinda. The woman who picked you up from the town hall. Her mouth was like an old cupboard stuffed with garbage. You hate that woman with all your soul. However, when the disease begins to whack the woman, your heart falls pity. You take care of the woman like your own mother. When Belinda has to leave forever, you can not help feeling hurt.
As if driven by pain, you then write a sentence on the palm of your hand. Hopefully Belinda's scourging disappeared from my heart forever before doom arrived. You then joined in line with people. Now you are no longer a hailed city keeper. You become the same as them. Queue moves slowly. The sun still shines fiercely. But people are still struggling with their patience.
Finally, it's your turn. You open the box, put your palms to the bottom, then silence them for a moment. Your eyes are closed. You mumble a little prayer. Done. Your throat feels dry. You are really thirsty. When you beg water for people, no one responds. You just find a blank look. The town keeper may have been forgotten.
The night never arrived. The sun still controls the city. The line continues to flow. The hustle and bustle began to quiet. The voices became silent. People started lying in the courtyard of the building. Death picks them up one by one. You just wait your turn. When you want to give up, a surprise comes over you.
"Are not you a town guard?"
You found a pair of haggard eyes but stabbed. "No, I'm not him." Suddenly you feel anxiety ambushing in your mind.
"No, it's you, the one who's handing out packets of hope to us."
The people in the yard began to whisper. They are starting to notice you. Somehow, you start to tremble. "No, no, it's not me!"
Why are you not helping us? You're the one who caused all this disaster! " Someone said aloud dropped the charges. The voices grew louder as people justified the allegations.
"You accuse me, I've given you a lot of hope!" You begin to lose patience and open your teak. "Why do you guys blame me?" You stared at the faces that once adored you and barely believed. "Remember, I've been keeping this city faithfully."
"You're a liar!" People were crying. "The hopes you give are all fake! Imitation! Your presence in this city is a curse!" Anger began to thunder and ready to burn.
"No, you are wrong! The sun shines on its own will Your mind is lost!
People do not want to be stopped. They started to surround you. You were gripped with horror. The remnants of power take you running. They try to hold your hands and feet. However, you are fighting against your fears. You broke free and darted toward a small hill that you suddenly missed. When you get there, you quench your thirst and sob to regret the loss.
The sun on the hill never burns your soul. When night comes, you stare into the distance. Lonely locked you up. Every now and then you still miss the city. At that time, the city begins to grow in the wilderness of your mind. However, you do not intend to visit him anymore.
