Je ne veux que parler avec toi

He was, and is until now, a beautiful man in a suit and a case of golf stick in the corner of a room. She made a mannequin after him, that stood still under

a shade of a cherry tree...somewhere inside Parc du Sceau. She wished she really could. 

She just wanted to talk to him, to share what she felt towards the face of the world. The universe, Papa, is so big... the little version of she, while holding her komodo-shaped stuffed animal, trying to play-spoilt on his knee, as she that time, has but still a small figure.

Get off me you little piece of shit! 

It was his comment, I am having a fight with your mother here, and I am hitting her hard, slap slap slap inside her mind!

... Not a very good start for a morning for such a little girl with big curiosity, but alas, what else could she do?

About twenty years later, finally she could grip it together and held her chin up high, and serenely, asked the beautiful man,

What is your most beautiful thing in the entire world?

And he said that she was, and would always is.

But he also said that he felt sad as she seems to not really care about it.

... Not a very happy start for a morning for the grown up girl.. a morning should be vitality and all energy!

Well Pap, the universe has excited me even more, said our girl, whose stuffed animal has turned into an alienware. 

Et quelle beau, que j'en pourrais parler avec toi, ce matin :)

Dancing with Sergey

                  From The Wise Man and A Little Girl, we will move towards the further future of the Little Girl. Everywhere, there would always be something peculiar when one examines in more detail and be curious about anything. Maybe somewhere in the Land of Antara Nusa, the people--- they will find their own style of studying maths and living it. The Little Girl would be wishful about that. And she will try, with her might, to contribute to the change.

                   She woke up in the morning, a glass of coffee that she hasn't finished the day before would still be beside her, unwashed.

                    She wakes up every morning onwards, fresh air, fruits and vegetables has been there as she prepared it already the night before. Change is good. Change positively, better.

                   And she examines the surroundings of her works throroughly, carefully, and the most important thing, passionately. And there it starts, streaming out just beautifully from the pages between her fingers, la musique de la raison...
                   And she is dancing with Sergey.
                   The most gorgeous creatures on Earth, with whom she has been long married to even before to Zean, her present husband.
                   Little Girl chuckles as her feet trottling between the peebles as the drum and the beat sang. Sergey, on the other hand, bow and pirouetting beside her, as playful as boys will always be boys, as strong and charming as a man would and should be...
                   'Sergey... do you know something?' she whispers, but it echoes down the alley of the olive trees.
                   Sergey turns his head a little. A unicorn peeps wistfully among the rows of the ginkgo biloba trees on the farside of the mountain, hopping forward and voila.. he tucks in Sergey until he drops down to the ground, slightly fall on his knee. The tin whistle ringing...
                   Sergey, who is sweating already, for they have been dancing for nearly half an hour, lays his back on the bushes of lavender and dandelions, starring at the Little Girl, demanding a continuing phrase.
                   'I'm happy that we're together... that I marry Zean, that I marry you before I marry him... that he's married to Mary before he marries me.'

                   And Sergey, for the first time since they met, looks at her sincerely with a pair of those big, emerald eyes... and kissed her gently on the lips.

I love you too,
said the gentle voice of the gorgeous creature...

Bandung, 28 October 2014

(To my Sergey with love ~<3 )

-Je ne peux pas trouver le mot l'autre que 'Mischung'-

Comme je pense à cette annee, c'est pas si necessairement que je pense toujours à l'échec. Il y avait aussi, on ne refuse pas, dans certain mesure, joyeaux, et quand même des succès. 

Ich möchte nach Himmel, bei der höchsten fliegen, und alles ... ich meine, ALLES erinnere. 

Ich lese Leben und Tode des Hans Fallada. Es fühlt sich taub aber es etwas ist, was ich immer über der auf Deutsch  geschrieben Büchern empfinde.  

Es ist deskriptive, es ist systematik, und es gibt nicht die zu viel Klappersinn, die ich auf den anderen Sprache spüre. Nur ich auf das Kapitel 2 erreiche. Es ist geschrieben, dass Hans ein Junge ein bischen scheue und auch nervos sei.

Mercredi, 21 marz 2012

         

            -Anthony-

       
          Ma vue est volée au papier rose qui sentait trop fragrant , la couleur fut bleu, il reste juste en face de moi. A l'académie de Phillips Exeter, à tous les gens, tous les choses quand meme, ses odeurs. A ma chambre, sa fragrance...à sa table,aux ses boises, et jusqu'au petit clignotement dans la fenetre, ses couleurs...  je pouvais sentir l'odeur de la fleur de lis  d'eux, tout en florissant.

C'etait ma premiere tache d'écrire une essai. Cette après-midi, immediatement après deux annees que j'était au Rosey, naturallement, ensemble avec cousine Therryana, c'etait finalement... Dave était là nous ramenait. Il était là, son manteau à la vague, la vue de l'Alpine et la neige derriere lui, avec une main vers moi, m'a demandé de lui suivre, doucement, tout à fait pas beaucoup comme habitude. Dave, mon frère cherrie, quel change as tu en deux ans!... je sourirais au coeur.
Cependant je n'avais pas qu'une seul ombre d'Al.

Cette tache d'essai fut le formulation de mon engagement vers l'avenir.

(Image is courtesy to http://www.templates.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2010/04/A-Cloud-Day-on-the-Alps-by-Grinder.jpg)