Come on, shake your body baby, do the conga
I know you cant control yourself any longer
Feel the rhythm of the music getting stronger
Dont you fight it until you tried it, do that conga beat

Everbody gather around now, let your body feel the heat
Dontt you worry if you cant dance; let the music move your feet

It is the rhythm of the island, and like the sugar cane so sweet
If you want to do the conga, you’ve got to listen to the beat

Feel the fire of desire, as you dance the night away
cause tonight were gonna party, until we see the break of day
Better get yourself together, and hold on to what you have got
Once the music hits your system, there is no way your gonna stop

You shake my body, thus dont give me wind.
30 September 2005

Like one single feature, there is no morphology to look at, but the one and only mountain. I walked through for five days to reach not the peak. However, I can feel your freezing power during the walk, can feel your grasses make my thick outdoor wear wet, that the power is there with you to conquer.
I look at the eyes of you at your sleeping time (we geologists realize that it can mount at certain time), and enjoy the beauty of you, can not even let my eyes go off you.
Day time, I hate when clouds cover your edge, your body and your feet. Top is still there from certain distance, though.
If only I can resist the cold,
I can resist the wind,
I can resist the night,
I can resist the courage,
Then I will come to walk for you far there; just to see you sleeping in front of me, making all the surrounding be calms; and the trees on you are releasing their green power, and the cloud that usually covers you on the day time is gone to be back tomorrow.

Do want to hug and feel you here…

Bangkok, September 24, 2005
For my sleeping beauty not in this city

How blind the mountain is; erupting and blowing its contents without considering the people counting their life on. It can not see how the adorers adore its beauty, not being able to do anything but adoring and imagining the beauty of it, of all time.
Looking at the mountain, only long sigh is the effort visible and only gaze is the best gift from the object, without being known by it, a so called secret adorer.

Being close to the mountain, there is no time to think about another thing, but to keep concentrating on that, that that is not that frequent and that does not deserve to be forgotten for some minutes.

Provided that you can feel it, you mountains will see me how I bite my tongue to adore the beauty of you, and you can never understand that feeling.

Karona Resort, Phuket, 21 September 2005

Every corner of the mountain’s part is amazing;
Question: will I be let hold it?

Can you just tell me not, instead of making me wait and keep adoring the beauty of the island? I saw the tree the whole day, I gaze the beauty through the small hole, just to see the beach with black sand, giving indication about the source of the sediments. Too geology, the island knows me about that!

Can you guys just extend the event so that I can enjoy the training more? I need not later to look from the small hole, yet instead you clear the trees and let me see the beauty, open! You never know how I want to adore the beauty, how I want to touch the sand and clear the grasses on the beach… making myself work to clean the beach and let me sleep on the beauty of the beach.

I tried to picture for several times yet I could not get you in it. I found your beautiful picture in a card, instead. No, I just could say that. No!!!
I could not touch the root of your beach and that made me sad. I saw pearls in the mouth of the river meeting the open sea. I can only breathe, you know!

While you let the sand be splashed by the wave, the structure of the sediments stay the same, nothing changed and nothing made it bad, in the look (of the beach). Gosh, gosh and gosh. What else can I write to describe the beauty? Only gosh and noooooo….
If we could speak by heart, tell me whether you like my feet step on your beach, destroying a little bit of the structure of your beach and let me be one with you. This is really serious; as I love the black sand there (I do not care with the white sand as many other people do!).

I saw pearls there. I saw the white pearls with some brown spots, splash of sand by wave; yet still not reduce the beauty. If I can kiss the pearls, I would do it under the sun, under the moon and bring home the pearls and bring with me anywhere I go.
No, and gosh…. And nothing bad with the sand, with the pearls, and with the whole sand. And let me hug you to night, feel the wind from the sand and make me warm the whole night. I lost words!

For the beach and the pearls,
I never feel bored to see you…

Karona beach, 19 September 2005, extend me with the beach.

While laid down, you see the sleeping beauty far there, bringing the beauty to your side, and smiling to the beauty saying good day for (the start of) our day/s (to begin). And you see the power of nature, which is un-tackled and un-(ground) handled. Then, you feel the measure happens in your body for the rest of the days; that going home is the answer.

Everything is there in the beauty: the look, the brain and the power (not the way of drinking). When you turn the face to the beauty far there, the smell can be seen and the look can be smelled; what a power.

When the day is over, there is nothing to expect but the beginning of the day again, to be filled with similarities and jokes for the (same but different) next day/s. Then you feel the smell and the seen mixed into the particles in front of the eyes; to turn a look into a gaze, to bring the far be much closer to the real, to have two air become one and to smell the mixed two smells into one; and no separation unless to start the same day filled with (again) the same joys.

The power of the nature is there; and nature is natural…


Phuket, 19 September 2005
For the beauty sleeping far there…Can you feel me in?

Who said achieved?
No one said made!

Even to be on the second, it was hardly achieved; even hardly made for even seconds, minutes, hours, moreover days.
The smile on the second top was inspiring and it was the beginning of the whole hope in this entire life. That the world is not flat nor circle, nor triangle; having no shape to walk.
Believing the truth to circle in the cycle… and there it is; the way to go was made, yet still; not yet made entirely.

There is never made to say; and there is never ending story for this story, continuously being told and continuously being remembered in the future; remains stable with the smile to remember, to die, and to end. And still, there is no “made” to say.
No one made, and nobody says made.

Macaroni Panggang, 16 September 2005, 15:29 PM

Aku menutup mata dan beberapa saat menenggelamkan diri dalam kegelapan yang ada dalam ingatanku. Bunyi angin terdengar lebih jelas dari pada biasanya. Meskipun angin tidak bertiup kencang, tapi berhembus di sekitar tubuhku meninggalkan bekas yang jelas dan aneh. Ketika kubuka mata, kegelapan malam musim panas sedikit lebih pekat.

Kuambil kunang-kunang itu, lalu kuletakkan di atas bibir pemasok air yang menonjol kurang lebih tiga centimeter. Tampaknya, kunang-kunang tidak dapat memahami kondisi yang dihadapinya. Ia sambil terseok-seok mengitari baut, meletakkan kakinya pada cat yang merekah bagi borok yang sudah kering.

Aku tetap memandangi kunang-kunang itu. Aku dan kunang-kunang itu tetap geming dalam waktu cukup lama. Hanya angin yang bertiup melintasi tubuh kami. Dalam kegelapan, pohon bambu itu menggesek-gesek daunnya yang tak terhitung jumlahnya. Sampai kapanpun aku terus menunggu.

Setelah waktu cukup lama berlalu, kunang-kunang itu terbang. Seolah teringat sesuatu, tiba-tiba kunang-kunang itu melebarkan sayapnya, dan saat berikutnya ia mengapung dalam kegelapan. Setelah kunang-kunang itu menghilang, jejak sinarnya masih bisa kulihat hingga beberapa lama. Dalam gelap yang pekat, sinar lemah kecil itu terus melayang-layang seperti roh yang telah kehilangan tempat tujuannya.

Beberapa kali aku coba ulurkan tangan ke dalam kegelapan itu. Jariku tak meraba apapun. Sinar kecil itu selalu berada sedikit di depan jariku.

Buat kunang-kunang Murakami,
mungkin tidak semua ingin menjadi besar, dan tidak bercahaya



In the dark, on the dark brown corner.
13 September 2005