Beradadisini

Sometimes I wonder which part of my life I’ll desperately miss one day.

A sestina is a thirty-nine-line poem featuring the intricate repetition of end-words in six stanzas and an envoi.

In our teens, we formed a band.

I was in my twenties when a friend asked me if I wanted to be his 3 a.m. buddy —one of the biggest compliments anyone’s ever handed me.

Like most Indonesians, my love language is food.

One week, one question, three deep breaths, and 20 minutes of uninterrupted, unedited stream-of-consciousness writing or typing—just recording whatever comes to mind, believing the first thought that crosses your mind and whatever follows.

The other morning, as I was waiting for my tram at the tram stop, I looked up to the heavy gray sky hanging low above the roofs of old houses in our street, and I saw 11 birds (yes, I counted) flying in a V-shaped formation, and I watched them until they…

Amsterdam MONDAY, June 2, 2025 After having our morning coffee, we left early for the office to pack and ship some orders.

Parma – Albiate MONDAY, May 26, 2025 We left our farmstay in the morning, and as we walked down the rocky path to the main road, one of the cats followed us like a dog until we hopped into the van.

Amsterdam MONDAY, May 19, 2025 I’d been drinking a lot of iced Hojicha and matcha lattes these days.