hoppipolla

to think that time is irreversible, and people get older every day. but there's always a child who will linger. sometimes the child comes up and plays the role which looks immature for the adults. be it selfish or a proportionally ridiculous words. as the time goes by, when can we play as a child would play?

i wonder if we can still let out the child inside us to hit the drum, to play with colors and to imagine all the secrets of this universe could hide. even in time when people aware of our grey hairs and our slow-paced of walk.

staring elf

an elf is waiting for the winter to come. he imagines the roofs where he can slide from the top and land above the mounting thick snow on the ground. look at these houses, the roofs are slightly the same. he wonders how fun it will be to play with snow on top of it, while the chimney sings a sweet lullaby throughout the silent nights.

in the cafetaria

in the cafetaria, you can hear different sounds of mother tongue. they all are spoken almost in the same time. their sounds represent happiness, anxities or selfish comments.

in the cafetaria, people meet up awhile for a short talk during a lunch break. the crowds of people talking with their own signs of communication. a man recites an article from his hometown's newpaper. a waitres offers a set of lunch menu. while girls talk cheerfully, they look so excited. i dont speak their languange at all. yet the diversity they share somehow bright up the afternoon.

the rain tastes like coffee

it is still raining outside. the rainfall is pouring down on earth, and it is time for colors of umbrellas to dance. the air always gets fresher when the rain comes. so it is time for a little walk, enjoying the wet leaves on the ground and the sound of the pourings.

but today the rain tastes like coffee. someone has brought a hot cup of coffee to walk under the rain. the steam of black coffee evaporates in the cold weather. the cup is still half full and the black liquid in it looks so intriguing mysterious. so condensed with lines to share. for the sake of long and comfortable conversation.

and it's a lovely rain with a taste of brewed coffee beans.

pictures in time

it is funny to notice the fragments in our memory sometimes can turn into reality. whether it is only a short melody played in piano by a stranger or an old song broadcasted during the weekend in the radio. words on the wall that refer to certain period in your life. in times of unawareness, you tend to catch glimpses of face that once looked so familiar. i guess this is what people call initial symtomps of self fulfilling prophecy...

west lake

thanks to the repository issue these days, i found some old pictures taken few years ago. which i feel like centuries ago already. it is nice to recall where were those places and who were those people i met during the journeys. some of the pictures have funny caption, which i cant exactly remember what was in my mind when i named them. all in all, name does not matter, to quote the famous words of shakespeare. but picture can tell thousands words, to excerpt a line from an old song.

and now i want to visit the lovely west lake. it was a long day when i visited the west lake. departed from shanghai, i took the regular train. the journey was really nice since i did not lost in translation, indeed i felt like going native. the train was moving to the westward, to hangzhou.

hangzhou is an old city in this part of the far east kingdom. a city of deities and the west lake. there were temples with high towers. and i can see a lot of lotus floating on the green water in the west lake. a city of love. for its stories. a city of legends. for its beauty.

the west lake was shining under the summer sun. it was not too windy, yet the willow trees were lazily swinging in soft breeze. this is the place where the god and goddess live and rule the world. located in the valley and surrouded by mountainous land, the solitude and the scenery of the west lake are its main beauty. poets and artist have written down their hopes and visionary thoughts while enjoying the sunset's reflection on the water. the place where legends of dragon and knights have won the battle against the demon. moreover,some old storytellers whose have made tales and fables, thanks to the inspiration that evaporates from the west lake.

"if the sky has the heaven, then there is hangzhou on the earth"

storagebird

in modern times like the one we live in now, knowledge is constantly changing over time. it gets wider and taller. yet, in the same time we start to questioning our repository's capability in filing in or out those memories we recall every second in our life.

due to this consideration, i guess it's time for me to open the box and take the storagebird out. i'm not daunting the magnificent of mind, nor i disregard the journals or pages for storing my fear and dreams. i'm only concerned about my ability to sort out what is important or not. therefore, i need the storagebird to be my repository. place for those nitty-gritty that i dont have to see it everyday. i'm not reluctant to honour my humanity, i'm just trying to catch up with the fast-changing world around me. whereas a storagebird is the one i need to treasure up all the excessive impression of life.

being the tallest in the city

well, this is not a story about a tall person, or big giant that safe the princess in the tower.

it is about how easy you can be the tallest person in the city. most of the city in europe share a typical architectural pattern in city design. usually every city consists of central and periphery. the central is usually called "the old town" or "the centrum" that most of the prominent building of governments and public services accessibly attached to each other. the town hall, the place where bureaucrats administer the city for centuries and the church are always in the surrounding of main square. in the main square, you can see a fountain right in the middle of it. it is a meeting point for the citizen. a place for twice-a-week-market day or national celebration.

a tower, which is always be the landmark of the city, stands tall for being the symbol of the city's existence. decorated with artistic symbols and located geographically beautiful, the city tower is a must place to visit. just climb those stone stairs, look out the window, or enjoy the scenery from its balcony. then you can simply be the tallest person in the city.

though there's a saying goes that the condition on top sometimes bring a higher chance of risk, or in other words, the higher you are the stronger the wind. but being on top you have the chance to indulge yourself with certain perspectives that might be not usual to your every-day-vision. if you ca enjoy it, then your journey to the top is worthwhile. being the tallest in the city, being the one with expanded insight.

migozarad

it means "it will pass". quoted from the first page of a book that i've been reading recently. regardless of the book's content, this word catches the nuance of today. everything will pass. good or not. like the falling leaves for the coming of winter. no need to be rushed. just wait for a while and be patient.

the mirror has two faces

it is amazing to know how those sentences are the reflection of your own state of mind. supposedly it portrays how you view the world, then they should contain the very essence of the tiny world inside of you.

but after a short break for coffee, why those words now look invariably different from the moment they were written? some appear in disturbing order that made yourself to question what was in your mind while writing those lines. fortunately, you still own the profound self-control, the key for not losing your sanity in vain. as a result, some reasonable lines stay as the way they were written.

indeed, the mirror has two faces. it deceives you as you trust it honestly. and you need to rely on other's existence to show the way they see you. to make you realize that not all of your thoughts can genuinely apply within other's perspectives. you need an editor, to proofread your lines. to decently sort it out.

in the market

one of the favourites in visiting differents places is having a wondrous time in the market. i can not exactly describe why it seems like a wise choice for spending a half day after a tiring exploration throughout the city. but to see those mixed colors of fruits and vegetables in the stalls, always bring my mind wondering where are these items grow, what kind of hands that bear the changing seasons for taking the enduring effort to harvest at last.

i like to sense the sounds over price negotiation, or price condemnation.
but the market always fascinates me for knowing how delicious food in every day's feast can be produced from here.

herbs, fish, spice, basil leaves, apples, magazines, shoes, hats, chicken, voices, songs, medicines, toys, flowers, meat, puppet shows.

help yourself, this place offers you more than you think.

the universal

as he was facing towards the crowd of his own, the artist recited the words for closing the small concert.

let us be one,

as west in the east, and east in the west

like the hot within the heat

the wave in the ocean

the universal of everything

where tiny differences counted for its value

impartial

night at the noordeinde

noordeinde passage never looses its atmosphere of fesitivity. though the sun has set, and sometimes the moon hides behind the cloudy north sea sky. when the streetlights are turned on, and the passage slowly drifting into silence as the last shopkeepers put the alarms on, it is the time for another crowd.

for the dinner time with these ladies and gentlemen

time for fashion show

for the royal's reading club tonight

for new collection to exhibit

and finally, for another shift of timekeeping.

to announce the party will soon be over as the dusk approaching from the east.

the sword and the book

this is a story about the life of time. it never stops moving from one point to another. as long as there is universe to exist, there is always events to take place. the time marks the journey every one of us has to walk on. like a book, a compilation of sequences. time never reverses itself, once given never forgotten. a souvenir. time can be as sharp as knight's sword created with patience of a devoted blacksmith. it is all the matter how we are going to use it.

in buda we meet

there was a fisherman standing in the bastion that morning.

he was accompanied with his loyal friend. i praised the day for its fair weather and i wanted to see you in buda hill.

the eagle whispered the message by the dawn. a secret code for another gathering. so, i traversed the vast land, from the western highlands flying eastward where the buda hill lies by the danube river forever. i can see people coming from the other side of the river, pest.

indeed, it was a fine day for enjoying the warmth of sunlight in winter. the white walls of the bastion shone like chinese porcelain brought from the far east.

and there you were.

probability

name it a degree of deterministic truth.

if you could have a cup of hot tea in the afternoon, how many sugar cubes would you take to make it sweeter? then you decide to take three cubes instead of five, and you are wondering how sweet it would turn out. you count on the probability in the moment those three sugar cubes falling into the bottom of your cup. and you take the risk of its taste as you stir with that little silver spoon.

autumn randomness

a fair weather for the day. after days of grey, the warm weather comes along from the north sea and casts its magic spell of sunny days. suddenly everything looks brighter. people get dressed in colors of their delights. fancy boots and hats aptly decorate the human being they attached to. some people prefer in classics, and it's time for them to show the world how their shoes' laces have been attentively tied, like ribbons for presents. the day is still early, while the downtown has started to get crowded with pedestrians. bikes are leaning in the bridge's hegdes, as they are temporarily abandoned for a slow sightseeing walk.

falling leaves on the ground put the sign of the early days of autumn. despite of windy days with thick cloud above, the autumn randomness has spread in the city. despite of scattered leaves in the park, today is randomly a short break for the fall to give the late summer coming back for a while.

the night is as sweet as cinnamon. i feel the wind softly blowing into my room tonight. it moves the candle randomly in circle wave. this is the mid summer night's dream. the moment where fireflies in iona's backyard dancing on the flowerbeds of the late summer. the time for all of us to cherish the warm days that soon will continue its southward journey.

vegetarian corner

it's not difficult for vegetarian people to dine in this polska land. despite of all meat dishes, people here are also very keen to explore kinds of vegetables and herbals.

the vegetarian corner was very particular in term of the interior arrangement. after all, the most interesting part of this corner was the way i found it. there's always something to find in every journey. so, during my unintentionally walk over the town in southern poland, i saw this place by chance. the word vega lead my mind to think about those green-healthy plants produced by our mother earth.

inside of the corner, everything looked particularly in line with the nature. kinds of tea were stored orderly in a wooden shelf that standing against the wall. and there was a counter next to the cashier where i can see kind of beans, salads and potatoes mixed with local recipes. for my long walking day, it was a sweet haven to fill my stomach and quench my thirst.

on the one side of the corner, the wall was painted in earthely yellow. the music was not from the local list, however, the tune was so soft. the lyric was familiar to me. therefore, it made me realized to be aware of the reality gap of the place where i was visiting and my ordinary world where that languange was commonly recognized. this vegetarian corner was really a place for foreigner like me.

i chose a table where i can see the busy street outside clearly. i ordered a potato soup and another local menu. the lunch time was quiet. a man stepped in and ordered a menu. then he took a local newspaper from the shelf nearby the entrance door, an accompany for his coming meal. most of the visitors were local people and this made me being extremely minority in this corner. i noticed the sounds of local languange produced by them. how it resonated to my sense, the ups and downs in their tone. i was lost in translation. but in the same time the more i felt closer to myself.

i came to conclusion that day. first, vegetarian habbit was not something distinctive in this society. second, in alienated situation, you tend to know yourself more.

unter de linden

i saw a bright yellow sun flower in unter de linden. i was flying over it on my way to the northern land. look at its color. so vividly beauty. the sun flower was drawn by a street artist in three dimension look. so, if you stand on certain point and focus your vision to it, you will see how real it is. the gradation of color shows that it reflects the spatial dimension of other living creature has.

the sun flower of unter de linden reminds me of some fragments in my mind. there was a field of sun flower in the heart of this land, those flowers were so tall with their profoundly yellow-brownies crowns on top. and to think about how excited it would be to walk through the field, or go for cycling across it. hmm...always brings me a constant spring in my room, a spare of universe in iona's backyard.

the yellow submarine

it's been all grey these days. buildings, bridges and streets are soakely wet.

i understand the nature is changing its course, because soon the leaves will turn yellow before they soon be swept away by the wind.

but, if only the yellow submarine will come and tear those clouds away.

i want to see it sheds its light. everything will illuminate, then surely will look prettier down here.

from the eye of the sea

the eye of the sea looked sparkling under the sunny summer sky.

during the medieval times, the merchants from the westland crossed her on their way to the magyar land, transylvania or the near east. guarded by the tatra mountains, the eye rests herself down in the valley, where vegetative winter forest survives throughout the year.

there is my timeless place.

untill one summer, i decided to jump into a traveller's backpack, to see the vast universe beyond this hometown glory.