All of us lying down on our porch, looking at the Jakarta's black polluted starless sky. The kittens and puppies are tired and asleep next to us, Qish is playing with my hair, tangling her tiny legs all over me. David is telling Javanese folk to Jula, I'm flipboarding randomness. Jens Lekman's voice dancing around us.
We just got so knackered from playing fireworks and paper soccer, and night picnic, and now, Qish is drifting asleep hiding her face in my neck. Her breath warms my chest. Jakarta is an ugly city, but why do I feel so happy?
We just got so knackered from playing fireworks and paper soccer, and night picnic, and now, Qish is drifting asleep hiding her face in my neck. Her breath warms my chest. Jakarta is an ugly city, but why do I feel so happy?
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