Saturday, February 27, 2010

the glass



Nearby his residence, there are people who live in a glass cylinder. The glass cylinder chock-a-block with flashing lights as if radiated by electricity, in various colors. They are extremely deafening, both inhabitants, as well as the sounds generated by the gleam of electricity. He undoubtedly admired the lif e existed in that glass cylinder. Everything that took place became incredibly fantastic and moved with a rapid speed.
Truly he adored the life in that cylinder, for he knew only that, occurred and subsisted in the fore of her eyes. As far as she gazed, she stared only that, for the cylinder is so huge, larger than her body. Two times or even three times bigger than him. Yet sometimes the cylinder appeared to be ten times greater than the size of her pose. Move beyond her hands to reach, move beyond her eyes to see.
(He is the one that doing things according to the shape of things to perform. For instance: perform spherical for the ball. He also the one that seeing things in harmony with those things that are being seen. In example: bending the head to see something horizontal.)


 





  





  





  





  





 


Each morning he open his eyes, and all he notices was that enormous glass cylinder with the entire earsplitting sound. He then opened his mouth unswervingly, adoring to its limits, and weep, or laugh, till the limits of things that can be done.
Sometime he believes to have living in there, together with the real denizens of the glass cylinder. Feeling the excitement. Sensing the sparkling bright colors crossing each other, moving up and down, down and up, left to right or even crossways. Reacting to the presence and absence of alphabets in there since the very beginning, standing alone as letter, until one moment swapping themselves as a vigorous amusement, and vanished afterward. Moreover, he felt like he’s able to wipe out the tears of a little boy that was crying in there.

 





  





 
All of his emotion sucked-out strongly by the glittering life in that glass cylinder, created the outside atmosphere dreadfully sticky. He deemed, the open space outside the cylinder became smaller than the cylinder itself.
(…Abunawas will stay away from dead sentence if he is able to put a big jar inside a little jar. So Abunawas breaking that big jar and put the broken pieces into that little jar…)
It is beyond his heart capacity to feel and beyond his brain capability to think.
 





  





   





  


One day he woke-up in the morning, and as usual he wanted to gawp his head straight toward the glass cylinder, only to observe what has happened. Probably there is something he never saw before. Or simply okay just to feel amuse by the routinely displayed that satisfied his human instinct who always keen on something for its accustomed.
 





But what he perceived that day was really something new. He met the inhabitants of the glass cylinder in a straight line and facing them. Cover without a single glass. He was extremely shocked. All his life he never saw the tenants of the glass cylinder walk out their residence. He even felt the bright colors electricity entering his body from up and down, left to right, and corner to corner. Making his body awfully stunned. As he open his fist, he sensed the alphabets in his hands changed form to excitement as well as distressing, then evaporated inside his aperture and disappear in his skin. If ever he moved, then he moved terribly fast just like a blink of a lightning and his body will appear to be fantastic.
He cannot shift herself from feeling hesitant, and immediately twisted his body to run, as for whatever marvel he has for the life inside that gigantic glass cylinder, not at all he ever imagined to live in the bounds of it. For him all this was just a fantasy. But he banged with some thick glass whose frontier he never saw. Then he realized, that he is in the glass cylinder and unable to come out from there. At a glance he catch sight of himself mirroring from the glass layer, where he’s wearing an outfit the same like Abunawas.

Sketsa (pulpen dan tinta cina di atas kertas) oleh Otty

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