Dah lama rupanya. Tulisan semakin pudar.
membongkok, mengutip sesuatu,
mencari-cari cebisan, cantuman memori yang tertinggal.
pejam mata. dan aku melihat ke belakang.
kamu tersenyum di situ.
kerana setia menunggu.
masih bernafas hamba.
|buku terbaru tulisan penulis kesukaan.|
"Today, everyone writes. Everyone updates their status on Facebook and Twitter in a poetic manner, with poetic words, intentionally and unintentionally inspiring others. Poetry, philosophy, and language style are free for everyone to utilize. I am just another face in that crowd. In a world where only the radical and the popular stand out and sell, I am none of the aforementioned. I am very ordinary. Even writing this makes me feel unintelligent because I sound like a noob who’s creating a fuss out of a no-brainer, yellow book. I don’t think ordinary sells, which is why my publisher amazes me every single time. I find it quite difficult to chew and digest the fact that some people actually believe in my tiny ability to write. My vocabulary is shit, my style is inconsistent, my depth is shallow, my structure is nonexistent, my focal point is everywhere – I only have real stories and scattered imagination to offer. That’s it. Real stories. Scattered imagination.
For a girl, like me, all I want is to gratefully borrow these from God a little bit longer."
Aku suka bau kertas-kertas yang sudah menguning dari buku-buku lama.Kerana di situ ada memori. Memori yang selalunya tiada pada yang baharu.
Mungkin, sebab itulah.