Unable

The sky is like crying. Rain starts dripping, One, Two, Three. I counted in my heart. There is no wind. There is no cold air. Jakarta often lowers rain in hot weather, no matter how intense the sun is. The rain just stopped by here, the wind blew the rest of the rain to another place. Until I was silent in a place, where I could shout freely and apart, among the thousands of beautiful weeds swaying over the spatter.  Until I was silent in a place, where I could shout freely and apart, among the thousands of beautiful weeds swaying over the spatter I feel the scent of freedom that is around me, it touches me to always feel the beautiful asceticism in this solitude. Because for me, contemplating what has gone or lost will make a lesson, where I can get better even though I got hurt. "maybe time hasn't been able to help me, at least the story that has happened will be a meaningful memory forever"