Architecture Review : Bird Nest Stadium

Olympic Stadium With a Design to Remember

By NICOLAI OUROUSSOFF

Published: August 5, 2008

Given the astounding expectations piled upon the National Stadium, I’m surprised it hasn’t collapsed under the strain.

More than 90,000 spectators will stream through its gates on Friday for the opening ceremony of the Olympic Games; billions are expected to watch the fireworks on television. At the center of it all is this dazzling stadium, which is said to embody everything from China’s muscle-flexing nationalism to a newfound cultural sophistication.

Expect to be overwhelmed. Designed by the Swiss architects Jacques Herzog and Pierre de Meuron, thestadium lives up to its aspiration as a global landmark. Its elliptical latticework shell, which has earned it the nickname the Bird’s Nest, has an intoxicating beauty that lingers in the imagination. Its allure is only likely to deepen once the enormous crowds disperse and the Olympic Games fade into memory.

Great architecture can never be fully conveyed through a television screen, of course, and it saddens me that so many Americans will experience the building only via satellite. In a site for mass gatherings, Herzog and de Meuron have carved out psychological space for the individual, and rethought the relationship between the solitary human and the crowd, the everyday and the heroic. However the structure attests to China’s nationalistic ambitions, it is also an aesthetic triumph that should cement the nation’s reputation as a place where bold, creative gambles are unfolding every day.

Until now, the number of memorable Olympic stadiums could be counted on one hand. There is Berlin’s 1936 Olympic Stadium, by Werner March, with its imposing ring of stone columns, a symbol of fascism’s absolute disregard for the individual. In an intentional counterpoint, Günter Behnisch and Frei Otto designed transparent tentlike roof canopies for the 1972 Olympic Stadium in Munich, daring in their structural innovation. And there is the elegant ring of slender Y-shaped columns supporting Pier Luigi Nervi’s Palazzetto dello Sport, which was a minor venue at the 1960 Games in Rome.

Herzog and de Meuron were chosen for the Beijing project partly on the strength of their design for the 2005 Allianz Arena in Munich. Clad in puffy, translucent panels made of a high-tech plastic, that arena’s doughnut-shaped form seems to swell from pressure within. (Herzog compares it to a boiling pot.)

During sports events, it glows with energy: the hue of its translucent skin shifts from game to game with the colors of the teams. Inside, the steep pitch of the seats creates the impression that the 70,000 spectators are coiled tightly around the field. It’s a masterly way to choreograph the focused hysteria of a soccer match.

But in Beijing, the architects were clearly striving for something more heroic. The centerpiece of a vast Olympic park in the northern reaches of Beijing, the stadium is raised on a mound of earth to give it a more monumental presence. Its matrix of crisscrossing columns and beams was conceived as a gargantuan work of public sculpture.

Viewed from a distance, the contrast between its bent steel columns and its bulging elliptical form gives the stadium a surreal, moody appearance, as if it were straining to contain the forces that are pushing and pulling it this way and that. Philosophically, it suggests the tensions just beneath the surface of a society in constant turmoil.

Working with the engineering firm Arup Sport, the architects designed a series of cantilevered trusses to support the roof, which shades the seats. A secondary pattern of irregular crisscrossing beams is woven through this frame, creating the illusion of a gigantic web of rubber bands straining to hold the building in place.

But the stadium’s exterior also sends other messages. Herzog and de Meuron came of age when architects had begun striving to break down the purity of late Modernism, which they saw as a kind of authoritarianism. By turning to asymmetrical forms and mysteriously translucent materials, they challenged that rigid, aesthetic ethos.

Here, those values reveal themselves slowly as you circle the building. There is no crushing monumental axis leading into the stadium as there was in Berlin. From close up, the tilting beams suggest rather a dark and enchanted forest in a fairy tale.

Visitors filter into the Bird’s Nest from all sides. Upon reaching the ground-level concourse, they either spill down into the lower-level seats or climb slender stairways through the matrix of beams to the upper concourses.

The crisscrossing columns create a Piranesian world of dark corners and odd leftover spaces — an effect that intensifies as you ascend through the structure. Light filters through the translucent roof panels, and a network of drainpipes suspended from the roof adds a tough, utilitarian feel. The feverish play of light and shadows is reminiscent of the set for a German Expressionist film. From your seat, you gaze out at the surrounding skyline, where rows of generic housing towers seem to extend to eternity.

The stadium can, in fact, be read as an attack on the mind-numbing conformity of such architecture. By creating a hierarchy of intimate spaces, Herzog and de Meuron allow for unexpected moments of privacy and solitude. Their aim is to break down what the writer Elias Canetti, in his renowned study of crowds, described as “the closed ring from which nothing can escape.”

This vision of the stadium as a gigantic social organism, rather than as a machine for mass hypnosis, is underscored by the architects’ plans for the building’s future. A vast shopping mall, demanded by the developer who collaborated on the project with the government, is buried beneath the stadium so that it will not disturb the serenity of the surrounding park. To reach it, shoppers will descend into the ground on broad ramps. By contrast, the architects want the stadium’s ground-level concourse to remain open to the park, allowing pedestrians to wander through the crisscrossing columns and gaze into the empty pit of the stadium.

If the stadium ends up being as porous as the architects planned, the result will be the kind of recycled space haunted by memory. Think of the abandoned shell of the Roman Colosseum, parts of which were variously used as housing and workshops before Roman officials began serious restoration work in the early 19^th century.

Architectural history is littered with brilliant projects that were ultimately debased by clients who didn’t understand them — or understood them only too well. The Chinese government has already threatened to build a fence around the stadium after the Games. And the developer is considering a plan to create a boutique hotel on the stadium’s upper-level concourse. If that goes forward, the stadium could gradually be swamped by consumerism.

Nonetheless, amid the endless debate over the ethics of building in China, Herzog and de Meuron’s achievement is undeniable. Rather than offering us a reflection of China’s contemporary zeitgeist, they set out to create a sphere of resistance, and to gently redirect society’s course.

The National Stadium reaffirms architecture’s civilizing role in a nation that, despite its outward confidence, is struggling to forge a new identity out of a maelstrom of inner conflict.

www.nytimes.com

Deutscher Meister!

BVB clinch Bundesliga title with 2-0 win over Nuremberg 

[30.04.] It´s party time! Borussia Dortmund have claimed their seventh German title on Saturday with a 2-0 (2-0) win over Nuremberg! Barrios and Lewandowski scored for the Black ´n´ Yellows who clinched the Bundesliga crown with two games to spare because second-placed Bayer Leverkusen slumped to a 2-0 defeat at Cologne.

Johannes Vorspohl reporting from Dortmund

In front of an 80.720 crowd at the sold-out SIGNAL IDUNA PARK, including 6.500 fans from Nuremberg, Borussia Dortmund took the lead through Barrios in the 32nd minute. Lewandowski doubled the advantage shortly before the interval (43 mins.). When Cologne then also went in front against Leverkusen, the BVB fans began to party. Borussia Dortmund are “Deutscher Meister 2011″!

Scenario: First against sixth, or the league´s second-best attack against the league´s fourth-best defence. In the second half of the season table Dortmund (26 points) and Nuremberg (25) had only been separated by only one point. So a close match was on the cards. For both teams, Saturday´s game was also a “long-distance duel” with BVB battling with Leverkusen (at Cologne) for the Bundesliga crown and Nuremberg with Mainz (against Frankfurt) for a Europa League spot.

Personnel matters: The good news first: Barrios and Grosskreutz, who both sat out Thursday´s training with thigh and knee problems respectively, were available again and part of the starting XI that saw one change to the team that faced Gladbach last week (Barrios replacing Kuba). Jürgen Klopp had to do without Sahin, Owomoyela, Kehl and Kagawa. Frantz, Chandler and Bunjaku missed out for Nuremberg.

Tactics: BVB played with their tried-and-tested 4-2-3-1 formation with Barrios as the lone striker. Lewandoski moved into the central midfield with Grosskreutz and Götze on the wings. The visitors opted for the same system with Schieber up front and Mak, Ekici and Eigler as the other attacking players. In the second half Nuremberg coach Hecking changed his formation to a 4-1-4-1 to try to give his team more attacking threat.

Game & Analysis:
In the best possible conditions – brilliant sunshine and a capacity Signal Iduna Park – the fans saw an intense game. Both sides started cautiously and focused on their defence, but quickly drove forward when they won the ball, though there were no real scoring opportunities in the opening 15 minutes. The only shot on goal came from Grosskreutz who tested Nuremberg´s keeper Schäfter with a long-range effort in the 12th minute.

The Franconian outfit had their first chance from a set piece when first Wolf and then the unmarked Wollscheid missed the ball from a free-kick (21). However, at that stage of the match, Borussia also struggled to create chances from open play.

Controversy in the 26th minute: Lewandowski released Barrios who ran clear on goal before colliding into the goalkeeper. The Nuremberg players protested vehemently, claiming – wrongly – that it was intentional. Both players needed treatment before they were able to continue playing. Barrios, however, was booked by referee Schmidt – a very harsh decision.

Six minutes later the two players were again in the spotlight. This time Nuremberg failed to clear the ball properly from their penalty which allowed Götze to unleash a shot from 22 yards. Schäfer managed to parry the effort, but Barrios was on hand to slot the rebound home to put BVB in front (32). The “Panther” likes to bite against Nuremberg – it was already his fifth goal in three matches against the “Club”.

After taking the lead, Borussia looked comfortable in possession. In the 37th minute, Piszczek found Barrios with a pinpoint cross, but the BVB striker failed to connect his header properly, otherwise he could have added a second goal. But that was scored a few minutes later by one of his team-mates.

A long ball by Hummels was picked up by Lewandowski who shrugged off Pinola before lobbing the ball over the on-rushing Schäfer – 2-0 for BVB in the 43rd minute. It was the eighth goal of the season for the Poland international – a fantastic strike that sent the Signal Iduna Park into raptures!

BVB kept the tempo high after the restart with most of the action taking place in the visitor´s half. Nuremberg, who had begun the match brightly, now struggled to compete. If they managed to create a chance Weidenfeller was on hand to make the save, for example in the 56th minute when the BVB keeper denied Eigler with a reflex save. The next chance then fell to Borussia again with Subotic going close with a header from a da Silva corner (60).

The Signal Iduna Park was bouncing, and when stadium announcer Norbert Dickel announced at 4.54 p.m. that Cologne had taken the lead against Leverkusen, the great atmosphere got even more fired up. The fans chanted, “Only BVB will become German champions.” Even BVB coach Jürgen Klopp celebrated briefly before sending out tactical instructions to his team again.

Nuremberg were unable to produce any kind of rally, and BVB cruised to victory. Replaced by Kuba, Lewandowski was giving a standing ovation when he left the pitch in the 78th minute. Barrios had the last chance of the game, but his header went just wide. And when the final whistle blew, the real party started: Borussia Dortmund are the 2011 Bundesliga champions!

Prospects:
There are two games remaining in the 2010/2011 season. Next Saturday (7 May, kick-off: 1530 CET), BVB travel to Bremen. In the season finale (14 May, 1530 CET), Jürgen Klopp´s men take on Eintracht Frankfurt at the SIGNAL IDUNA PARK.

Teams & Goals
Bundesliga, matchday 32

BORUSSIA DORTMUND – 1. FC NÜRNBERG 2-0 (2-0)
Borussia Dortmund: Weidenfeller – Piszczek, Subotic, Hummels, Schmelzer – Bender, da Silva – Götze, Lewandowski, Großkreutz – Barrios.
Nuremberg: Schäfer – Judt, Wollscheid, Wolf, Pinola – Simons, Cohen – Eigler, Ekici, Mak – Schieber.
Substitutions: 78. Kuba for Lewandowski, 83. Santana for da Silva, 90. Dede for Großkreutz – 46. Gündogan for Mak, 71. Hegeler and Plattenhardt for Schieber and Pinola.
Goals: 1-0 Barrios (32., Götze), 2-0 Lewandowski (43., Hummels).
Corners: 4-4 (HT 1-2), Chances: 4-2 (3-1).
Referee: Schmidt (Stuttgart), Bookings: Barrios – Simons, Judt.
Attendance: 80.720 (sold-out). Weather: sunny, 18 °C.

www.bvb.de

Denimheads: People who don’t wash their jeans

By Tony Hicks

Saturday, January 15, 2011; 5:24 PM

WALNUT CREEK, CALIF. – You might want to think twice about washing that new pair of jeans. Or even taking them off. Because a lot of the cool kids don’t – for months at a time.

Some even use them as pajamas. Although it’s probably safe to presume they at least come off for showers.

“I have known people to sleep in them,” says Lorna Burford, who runs DenimBlog.com. “I wouldn’t myself, as they are not the most comfortable jeans in the world. But yes, the myth is very true.”

Detergent companies may not like it, but there’s a serious movement among denim enthusiasts, a.k.a. Denimheads, to buy raw denim and wear their jeans until they’re molded to the wearer’s body – not to mention whatever they keep in their pockets. Or, as Burford says, “the imprints of your lifestyle.”

“You have to make sure you buy raw, dry denim,” she says. “It’s denim that’s untreated and unwashed so it’s straight from the roll. When you wash them, the dye will fade.”

The reason Denimheads don’t wash their raw jeans, she says, is “you will get authentic-looking honeycombs on the back of the knees and lap whiskering,” which, aesthetically speaking, are good things.

“I never waited the full six months with my jeans,” Burford says. “I think I got to 30 to 40 wears before washing them. It’s really hard to wait so long.”

Especially to people who mind food stains and accumulated dirt. But that’s what spot cleaning is for.

A Denimhead is usually a fashion-conscious person in his or her 20s who wants a pair of pants unique to them, says Jay Underwood, the owner of Atlas men’s clothing in Walnut Creek, Calif.

“The raw selvedge [self-finished] denim trend started in Japan in the ’80s and has largely been a cult following in the states,” Underwood says. “It started with the obsession to make the perfect pair of pants and continues to this day. Everyone is somewhat different on their beliefs as to caring for their jeans.”

Underwood says raw denim jeans made with selvedge seams run anywhere from $180 to more than $400, depending on how much detail work is involved and how rare the jean.

“Regular denim premium jeans can run $100 to $300, but most fall in $150 to $250 range these days,” he says. “The Denimhead trend is a very small segment of denim purchases and probably will always remain a cult following, due to its nature.”

Even investing that much, some Denimheads shudder at the thought of ever washing their pants, which must make mothers all over shudder in return. Yet, there’s still the issue of the occasional spot or other typical day-to-day contaminant that someone doesn’t necessarily want hitching a ride on their pants for weeks at a time.

Then there’s that whole smell thing.

“I know it sounds disgusting, but the main problem with raw jeans is the sticking feeling because you’ve sweated in them over time,” says Burford. “That does tend to give off a smell. You can definitely steam clean them, that will kill all of the bacteria and smell. You can also Febreze them and wipe the areas that are dirty with a cloth. Just don’t fully submerge them in soapy water.”

Febreze seems to be popular among Denimheads.

“I know some people put their denim in the freezer – it kills bacteria – then spray them with Febreze,” says Kevin Brennan, an account exec for Diesel USA. “I tend to never wash raw denim, as I find in cold water it often shrinks. Dry cleaning is always an option, but typically frowned upon by the Denimhead community.”

Put aside those visions of roaming gangs of 20-somethings in skintight jeans pointing and laughing at peers they catch exiting a dry cleaners. Underwood says dry cleaning is okay.

Other cleaning options include using white vinegar or washing jeans inside out in cold water, then hanging them out to dry, Underwood says. “That is the most extreme Atlas denim customers go. I don’t think any of our guys are wearing their jeans forever without washing. At least I hope not.”

Of course, no Denimhead can rule out household cleaners, either.

“I recommend gently spot cleaning your jeans, if you need to use a damp sponge and a mild cleaner, such as Windex or 409,” says Carl Chiara, director of brand concepts and special projects for Levi Strauss & Co. “I also hang my jeans on a hook in my bathroom at the end of each day. The steam freshens the jeans up.”

The denim aficionados can talk all day about different “finishes” or “washes” they aim for. But the ultimate goal is something that feels right and is unique to that person.

“Pre-made washes do not fit in the right place for every person because of different [body] shapes and heights,” says Burford, who says some people run and or do exercises like lunges to break in their denim. “When you create your own, these fades fit exactly where they are supposed to because you made them. They’re completely unique to you. Nobody else in the world can have the exact wash you now have.”

- Contra Costa Times

www.nudiejeans.com

www.washingtonpost.com

Denim Lover

Denim is a word. Denim is life. Denim is love.

It’s part of my story with denim that started about 8 years ago. I consider myself as a denim user ever since.

The story goes like this…

…

I was part of a religous organization back in high school, as one of the frontman. There, they didn’t wear denim for some reason, like it’s a western culture. Following the western culture they believed as the same principle as follow their way of life. I sticked with it for some time.

Then, in my college years I started to wear my first ever pair of jeans. It was Tira basic regular straight, I supposed. I didn’t like it so much, for the roomy and kind of baggy feel from thigh to hem. Simply just a try on. Later I donated the jeans to a charity action.

2001 – 2003, skateboard rules. I played it too. Some brands fitted in as my fashion style combined with sneakers created a boy who looks like spoiled and spend lots of his parents money. Damn!

In 2003, it was my first period of work when I made my own money. Means I was able to spend some for things I want to buy. I was much influenced by surf brands, like Volcom. The style was quite modern with some twisted look. I didn’t like it though. The time went fast by only having two or three pair of jeans. But once I recalled when I broke my Volcom in the knee when I crashed out of my bike. It was hurt so bad, and the jeans was tear apart.

2004 was marked as a memorable years of my denim life. In May, I saw an advertising in one adult magazine, a Levi’s 501 re-born jeans. I was like, “What is this stuff anyway?”. Basically I liked the add, it showed a man who was re-born from underwater goes to the surface wearing a pair of 501 jeans. Nice. But I have to wait for until break of ramadhan to received my extra payment and then bought the jeans with the money. I finally got my first pair of 501. The re-born jeans 5 year finishes.

With them a booklet contains words, stories, and history of 501 years after years. I read them all. But one kept in my mind, was the line “…wear them often, they will shape your body and soon become the only jeans you’ll ever put on”

During the time, I wore the jeans everyday. As time went by, I fell in love with the jeans for some reasons. One to mention is they share the same likeness and story with my preference. Music played the most part of it. Then, it sticked as a pair of my second skin. Reflected my personality. Style and attitude. It began as one with the wearer. It was part of my life. The jeans, the 501.

I look at nothing else but 501. I even collected the premium 501 Limited Edition which only released once a year in May. They only came in limited numbers, with each pair hand numbered. For that reason, I considered as one of Levi’s 501 valued customer. And it was all about the money…

Mid 2009, I heard the things about raw denim. What state of denim is that? For i haven’t got a single clue about it. Raw or also known as dry, is the most pure state of jeans. It is new, it is unfinish, in a stiff and dark color. Thus, with raw denim we create and finish the jeans based on our practical way of wearing. The idea is simple. You just wear the jeans for some time. Wear it often, everyday, in a soft way or in the hard way. I think it is more to a realization of what so called the second skin. After the hard wearing time, it slowly change from the raw material to a living jeans. Every scratch, marks, whiskers, they bleed like we do. The color fade from dark to bright. It might takes time to break them in. But be sure no matter how long you wear them, to never wash.

2010, my first raw denim is the Topman Straight Jeans. The brand motto Denim is Dead don’t really suit for denimania. Denim is living. One of the most desireble thing about denim is the more you wear them, the better they get. Time will shine their true beauty. I tried to search for Levi’s 501 dry denim in any retails across the country, but ended in nothing. The hunting for 501 dry denim was a fail. Later I found out that it was one of the marketing strategy from Levi Strauss Indonesia which don’t consider dry denim as a market demand. They prefer pre-washed denim. Not so long to prove that Levi Strauss Indonesia was wrong, couple of months – by mid 2010 – it clearly seen in mostly Jakarta’s premium shopping mal, many were wearing dry denim. Brands like Nudie Jeans, April 77, Imperial Denim, Cheap Monday, even to Japan’s high end Flat Head, Momotaro and Samurai Jeans, was an eye cathing in many back pockets.

This was a huge blow for me. As a fan of Levi’s 501, but wanted to move on forward to more a characteristic denim in their raw state, blocked by some unpopular marketing strategy. Well, I did learn something through the years that denim is not about marketing, and either selling. Denim is far more than that.

After those heart breaking moments, I started to look for another name. Nudie Jeans was came first. I’ve been told that the Swedish brand has some fine style and fabric. It is true, they have one of the most stylish fit in modern silhouette. But I wasn’t interested in modern look, clean and thin. For me, classic straigh is the juice. Nudie’s Average Joe style is the best fit for me they could offer. The result, I honored myself with a pair of Nudie Jeans Average Joe Dirt Dry Organic size 30/32 (I guess I gained more kg’s at the time) as my 32nd birthday present in September 2010, and ready to rock on it!

By late 2010, Lee Cooper has an event of dry denim challenge. The models are slim 114 and straight 118. I tried a pair, and eventually bought it for myself and Indah. For me, it was another chapter of trying different fit and style. As for Indah, that was the first time for her wearing dry denim. The quality is fine, the weight is 12 oz, but kind of super turbo changing color raw denim. The fabric made of Indonesian cotton (if I’m not mistaken), is quite a progress for a retail brand. Lee Cooper is the first retail brand to make such competition in Indonesia.

Indigo (Indonesia Denim Group) and Darahku Biru is two of large community that has many members in the internet. They are a community that share the same common interest of denim. Denimhead, as they call, share lots of information of denim, the fabric, the types, manufacturers, where to buy either online or direct shop. Little did I know, Indonesia has so many fans in denimology. The way they break-in their jeans is fantastic. The result is breathtaking. I’m sure that Indonesian denimhead is equal to those is U.S. or in Japan. They also have a periodical gathering, the event as an opportunity to introduce new brands which is still produce in a limited stock. A premier. The quality is still below foreign major brands, but the improvement is quite to be count in the next years to come. We’ll wait and see.

2011, I look for denim from online store. The name Sneakernstuff, Meadow, and Cultizm really interest me. It’s another way and experience in shopping. In December 2010 – to Christmas time, many of them offer huge range of sale products, this including denim. The sale last to one month after new year to late January 2011. Not to mention the Chinesse Lunar Year, there was an abundant blow of sale in the internet. Be wise to use your credit card for you might end up in over limit transaction.

From the webstore I learn so many new things in denim world. The fabric, the Oz, the fit, the labels, and many more. One name is Denim Demon. The Swedish brand that catch my deep attention. I kinda like the fit and style of their Aajja. I even send messages to ask and gather details information of this prduct. Thanks to their founder and owner, Anton Olsson, who was very helpful, describing his Denim Demon jeans in many messages. It really helped me to make decission of what product I should buy for the very first time from online shopping. After some thought, and considering the sale period of Sneakernstuff, I made an order of Denim Demon Aajja Raw Selvage. It is a classic regular straight fit, 14.5 Oz of Japanesse Kaihara Mills denim, red selvage, and in raw – of course. What a nice catch! So far, one of the best fitting jeans I’ll ever try on.

By wearing them, i once read about the project wear out of Denim Demon. The story about some Samii people who wore Denim Demon jeans everyday in most of all their activities for six months. During the time all is permitted and allowed to do with the jeans. There was only one rule : never wash the jeans. And so as the time passed, some samples of the jeans brought and washed, then being made as a replica. The result was quite breathtaking. Every sample of jeans create a different story depends on each wearer of how they wore their jeans everyday.

That story somehow inspired me to do the same as those Samii people. Wearing the same Denim Demon Aajja Jeans, wear them everyday, in most of my activity, for at least six months before first wash. I’ll look forward for the result by the end of the 6th month.

Even now, I sit and write this blog wearing my Aajja. Breaking the jeans in slowly…

…

From Levi’s 501 to Denim Demon Aajja is a story of my experience in denim. It was, I, to be considered as a denim user. But now I’m in a transformation to be a Denim Lover. I’m now moving forward to another level of denim knowledge. Maybe I’ll put on a high end Japanesse denim in a short period of time, who knows? It is not a hobby, nor a collectible stuffs. The jeans itself is more than just a second skin, it’s now part of my life.

Second To None

Three years ago the first time I saw you. You were there sitting in your cubical, stared at computer, no worry for any disturbances as if you were focus in what you did. Surrounded by mountains of papers, a telephone at your line, you look neat, you didn’t seem to care for everyone passed by your place. Didn’t seem to have much time to talk.

But still I passed your desk, and said hi to you. It was a very simple and casual conversation. With a smile at your face, I left you for a very long time. Not knowing if we could ever meet again.

…

“So, how was you day at the head office? Do you meet many new colleagues?” , I asked Siti.

“Indeed, I was. I met some new faces that were nice to me. They surely helped me to obtain goals for my assessments” , Siti answered.

“Well, they would surely do. After all, we are one team in the same boat. Then again, who were you meet there?”, I replied.

“My credits go to the finance bands and also to the accounting staffs – who I bet you already knew them before me…and Indah, she is the one who is new in the block”, she explained.

“Indah?…”

“Yes, Indah. She is the new accounting staff in the office. Do you happen to notice her before?”, she wondered.

I mumbled some words of which I didn’t sure what it was. I numb there for a while. Siti recognized it. She still there waited for the answer. But I couldn’t figure it well as she expected to. She smiled at me and gave me the look. The look I would never forget for a long time.

“She is beautiful”, she said to me.

Those were the last words I heard at that moment. And I swore, it kept bearing in my mind to this very day. I was struck by something I could never realize until then.

…

I followed you down to the path of our next game. In a cloudy, damp hill up somewhere in Sari Ater. We gathered from all units, three days of outbound  to unite one vision, our goal. I wonder if I had a chance to pass you and said something nice, time ticking quite fast. I was in line of queue. And you were there too. A couple of numbers in the front. It was your turn. I had to be patient.

The gravel was slippery due to the rain poured down last night. That somehow didn’t stop the track of our ATV’s. We rode them fast and wildly. Went through everything came along our way. I never want to head straight. Because I saw something beautiful in front of me…

Until one more lap to our finish line. You were driving a bit clumsy. Hard to stable the steer and the wheels gone out of road. I had you at my sight. To that bumps and fell down in a medium speed. You fell hard. Crash landed. The vehicle scrolled over you. Time stopped…in seconds.

“Are you alright? Indah, look at me, are you hurt someparts in your body?” , I rushed to help.

You didn’t able to answer my questions. Though you didn’t say a word, I knew that you felt hurt. You were shocked and sat in the ground. Your ATV was at your opposite of the track. I placed myself in front of you. My knee to yours. I downed to held your hand. Looked at your eyes. You were shaking and crying.

“Listen to me, you stay here. I’ll go and be right back with a help for you”, I tried to calm you down.

I left you and ran as fast as I could to get some rescue. Eventually, a team at the end of next lane was able to answer for my waving hands. Shortly, you were successfully evacuated to the checkpoint. Where so many friends were surrounding, worrying and asking of what happened. They all left me alone in the middle of muddy pady field. You were taken out of my sight. I stood there…and still the remain of your shadow next to mine. That day.

The next thing I know, you were there sitting in a round table at dinner. I sat across to your place in the same room. Hesitated to reach you. Wondering if you were alright after suffered from the shock. I had you at my sight – for once again. Are you alright? Can you move your hands and legs? Where do they feel hurts? Those question were asking frequently, in a space different, like a line of magnetic filled the atmosphere. I wanted to hear the answer, for you hadn’t answer them yet at the first place… I smiled. I thought I knew them. That was enough. I left the crowd. And walked alone to my room.

…

In one of my sleepless nights, the line was on, you were there too. You blinked me with a message or two. I forgot if I ever met you before. And after the ATV accident I thought I lost you somehow…

Nights were numbered long than usual. I always looked at my line, and waited for your sign. Either it was you or me, who made the first call, it didn’t matter. What matter was I had these lovely words of yours. It didn’t have to be nice but when it came to you, everything would be lovely.

That time even more real. You saw things like what music do you like? What are your hobbies? What kind of movies do you prefer to watch? What do you do in your spare time? Where do you like to travel? And other common things to talk to. I hadn’t notice until one time you were talking about your past. The untold stories of a very few people knew. I was on your list. I never asked. And really never wanted to know the reason. All I know, I enjoyed every chat we had. Every words you said. Every time we had…through all night long.

“BUZZ”

“BUZZ”

“Hi, there. Still awake at present hour?”

“I guess so. I can’t close my eyes to sleep. What about you?”

“Same like you. I think I want to be awake for a while, but then I see you. And this insomnia kills me”

“Nevermind that too. You’ll get yourself used to it. So, how’s your feeling today? Is it better or even worst?”

“Hmm, it kinda so – so, I suppose. I’m not certain if it feels better or the opposite. It just flows like that”

“Care to tell me what is it, I may be able to help you. At least to make you feel better for have let it out all”

“I have this kind of feeling for things I’ve been through…”

And so the story goes. Many nights passed with a deep conversation. An emotionally relieved and released. We had them all. I gave you a vice versa of her current condition. You seemed to be a bit fragile and unstable. In your point of view, it was a reality that biten of your pain. At my point of view, I tried to understand your heart, your way of thinking, of all that you’ve been through. It got me closer to you, to your emotion. A thin line that reflected in your past, present, and hopefully the future. You had opened your door for me. I wasn’t sure to knock, but I did it. And I saw you. The real you.

“Plese try to sleep. I may put you on my playlist so you can rest tonight. What do you like to hear for your lullaby tonight?”

“What’s on it?”

“How about this…”

…In the arms of the angel, fly away from here. From this cold dark hotel room and the endlesness that you feel. You’re in the arm of the angel, may you find some comfort here… (Sarah McLachlan – Angel)

“Indah likes this”

…

To this day, those paragraphs creating lines of unfinish spacing stories of us. Me and you. Not to mention The Story of Two Broken People, the one which bond us like never before. Messages, phone calls and bed time stories, all like figure out missing link of a puzzle. Captured frame in a name of journey. Our journey.

We both never meant things to go on purpose. We let it flow, just like that. I recall the line from you back in our late night online messages period. There are so many things I still remember from you, but yet, I still want to hear more. I could never satisfy. I could never enough on you. You have what is precious to me and some parts of me are there inside of you. That make me keep coming back to you.

We never look back to our past. We continue straight forward. We can’t change our destiny. It is the past who make our present like this. Without it there won’t be any story of us nor our journey. What we have is the present and the future. It has begin. Let me take you there. Hold my hand and we walk this mile together to our destination.

In the night, when we’re alone in our room. Me, in my cold dark hotel room, empty and alone. You, in your blue rent room with your pink piggy doll, longing for me to come home to you again. Home is where the heart is. You are my home. Place where I want to be, place where I always run to. In a simple and comfort feeling, lying to hold you tight. And never let go. As I whisper these words, softly to your ear…Indah, you are second to none to me.

Sour Sally With Love

Taste love in a spoonful of yoghurt. In a small bright café where few people there for an occasion. The rest are just passing by with a slight seeing from the outside.

Inside, the music plays some romantic jazzy sounds in addition to the flavor. In a square table next to the wall we sat, the shadow of us as reflection sets as background. We wait for a minute. We smile at each other through the clear glass of mirror.

We took our part in each side of the dish. Two cups of tall ice cream, served with toppings. We made the order. We choose the additions. We enjoy everything in each and every single till it last drops.

The yoghurt ice cream. It’s white. It’s pure. It’s plain. It’s all when we begin. As a blank canvas where we paint and draw our stories.

The strawberries are red. Rounded at the bottom. Sour to our tongue.

The mangos are yellow. They are sweet. We rushed and put them at our side of cups.

The longans are clear. They are few. They are precious. We must share together.

The Oreos are black. They are chocolate. Things you love most of time.

The almonds are brown. They are many. They are like stars upon the sky in the night.

The combination of them is what we have. They all collide as one scoop in our mouth. Creating the taste of undescribe feeling. The feeling of love.

The yoghurt is what I want to share with you in life. Only you, Beautiful.

Lee Cooper Dry Denim Challenge

About The Challenge

Founded in 1908, Lee Cooper is among the world’s original denim brands, worn and loved worldwide. Now sold in over 4,000 stores in 85 countries, it has already distinguished itself from its American counterparts as the “Great British” and “Original European” jeans brand. Since inception, Lee Cooper has been at the forefront of British & European fashion for decades, leading trends, developing innovations and driving youth culture.

In line with the brand’s youthful and innovative philosophy, Lee Cooper Indonesia, Malaysia, Singapore and Thailand are collaborating to launch a limited edition Dry Denim collection and consumer competition in October 2010.

Dry denim, or “RAW’ denim as it is sometimes called, is, at its very best, left unwashed and delivered straight to the store, missing the washing process completely. The fabric moulds to the body over time, creating a unique pair of jeans for the wearer. All the abrasion, creases, marks, tears, fading and whiskering appear as the fabric ages with the wearer’s daily use. It takes time but it’s worth the wait.

For this challenge, consumers are encouraged to wear-down and age their jeans, and if possible try not to wash them for six months or more to achieve the best results. An online community will share photos, and comment on each other’s progress; non-participants are encouraged to join in too.

At the end of the challenge, a panel of judges will choose five winners per country. Winners will be judged as having the pair of jeans with the most distinctive characters. Those 20 finalists will be presented to our panel of judges in the UK, where an overall winner will be chosen. The overall winner’s prize includes 1000 Euro in cash, and an opportunity of having their winning pair of jeans re-produced in limited edition and sold in the four participating countries, with their name and a brief write up of their experiences in the challenge printed on the hang-tag.

Good luck, and enjoy the wonderful journey it will bring.

What is Dry Denim?

Denim is unique amongst fabrics, fading naturally with the character to age beautifully. The older it gets the better it looks. Today denim jeans are washed and often artificially aged or distressed to achieve a worn out look. Dry Denim, sometimes also referred as raw jeans are made from fabric that is unwashed during the production process.

Why would I want to buy Dry Denim?

Most people who are dry denim enthusiasts feel that these jeans are truly a pair of jeans that are going to fit like second skin & truly unique to the wearer.

Because Dry Denim is not washed, it may feel a bit stiff and look very flat in the beginning. After wearing them for a while, the jeans will feel softer on the skin, characters like creases, wear & tear and marks will develop depending on your activities.  Eventually you will have a pair of jeans with distinct character and personality as unique as your own.

…

I say :

This is the first time a competition of breaking dry denim ever held in Indonesia (correct me if I’m wrong). And I’m a bit surprise Lee Cooper come up with such a brilliant idea, instead of Levi’s, Wrangler or other jeans brands. This shows Lee Cooper is way ahead of those other names and put attention in dry denim, in which being popular trend for the past years in the country.

We can see many brands are starting to produce dry denim, in addition to their collection. Oldies brands, street brands, even to premium brands some in the name of designer jeans have already created their dry denim line. Some of them made it with selvadge denim, make it more superior and a must have for dry denim lovers. Well, I can only wish that the model of jeans Lee Cooper put on this competition is selvadge denim and button fly. It is just feel different when wearing button fly selvage denim. Original.

Hope this challenge will attract more denim user to a transformation of being denim lover. Wearing them at least six months before first wash. With passion and love of your second skin.

Last words, let the jeans break into you!

http://www.leecooperchallenge.com

Lost in Translation (part 2)

Chapter 2 : Story of Two Broken People

Rangga, a 30 year old, work for a private state own developer company in which they build several projects located across the nation. He’s been working there for about three years as a manager. He’s a modest, honest kind type employee. He never asks more than he deserves. He takes all what’s coming in the plate. Though he knew, he sacrificed a lot. Things bigger than he realized before. Things that make him miserable in some way…he did it in the name of love. For the job, for himself, and for his family.

It was back in 2007 when he received the offer the job from his current company, a position and a better future from his previous one. Looks quite promising at that time, as he planned for further future plans. He still remember the day, the day he signed and not so long said goodbye to his family, his wife and daughter who only one month of age. A very early year to miss someone who is very special and important. It’s part of the big price he had to pay. The conversations of last time before the flight were one thing he always keeps in mind. He refreshen it in in most times, to keeps his in sane and in track for purposes of all.

“Are you sure about this? This is the matter that concerns our future, our family”

“It’s a good deal and better offering from what I’ve got all these times. Sure you’ll understand what I mean”

“What about us? Who’d take care of us? There are more important things than money”

“Please understand, that I won’t abandon you. I’ll have my responsible for you kept. That’s a promise”

Then he left them. They packed him one thing, a picture. A picture of his new baby born daughter in a small frame. A message he must saw everyday, evertime he woke up and in time before he closed his eyes at night.

So, he walked his path separate from his family. Worked his asses off. Busted things to the bones. Each day and everyday, he saw a day without knowing how it felt to have a family. He wanted to have responsibility as someone who lead, not as a manager, of sort of things. He didn’t care for anything the name for he called, as long he get what he wanted. But it seemed expectation wasn’t the way reality goes.

Daily, at the office, where he worked, he managed things well. Always prepared and planned, minimize mistakes. Put everything’s in order. He did well. He got raised in his first year, and later extension of his work contract that will keep him due to another year. He was pleased. If he managed things well in the office, that surely brought good effect to his family. Assume he would be able to give more to them. He described his work as a job that slowly kills, bruises that won’t heal.

Emotionally, he was always in control. He was like ice when dealing in critical conditions. Never decide anything in a rush. But he is kind of a risk taker, a plus for his experiences in a young age. He never doubt things he sure of. Even when his supervisor unable to take the risk, he freely volunteer himself to be in his shoes. Carried on a heavy burden.

Despite his loyalty, he had couple of things which always bother him. It was his family. He was told and promised many times to spent with them, but the fact was he got nothing. Previledges and rights. It somehow disappoint him. He lost his trust to his company and management who had promised him those at the first place. He argued that not only the work what matter, but family have the same proportion. He tought, he must did certain necessary out of order. He would broke rules, some discipline of presence. But, that wouldn’t be enough if he just spare 2-3 days in a month. It cost him time, energy and money, in a large number. Still satisfaction of needs unfulfilled.

Little did he knew, people change. His family, his wife, demanded more time from him. Not just she lost her trust to his promised, but also she lost her trust to him. This was the beginning of their conflict. Normal cautions for family he supported, money means nothing without attention. And all the money he could support, was never be enough. And their daughter, is their precious possession. The most. The only bond for them. She hardly recall her father. There was time when he was needed most, when she sick and needed to get emergency treatment. The role support of father was something missing there. He felt guilty. His family blamed on him.

He never knew how it felt to stay in the middle of the night holding her. He never heard her crying voices when she hurt. He never had time to wake up in the morning and saw her in her sleep. A sleeping child of his own. He never had time to feed her, and changed the diaper. He never had time to play with her around in the park, took her to a mall, saw animals in the zoo. He never had time to be a father. Would she still call him daddy?

And when everything has cracked, he kept his nerve and belief. All that happened to him, was all trial in life, that somehow he would manage. It was the time when he realize, things wouldn’t be as expected. Far behind expectation, as reality goes. The obstacles were getting bigger and heavier along the way. He was like falling into pieces. Devided into two parts of his body and mind. Separate thousand of miles away between office and home. One day he must choose between those two. There can only be one last in the end.

It was one of these days in the office…

“Are you certain of the situation? Is everything under control now?”

“Yes, sir. I’m pretty sure of it. We deal with them and settle things down. But it won’t work until we pay our due to them”

“Can you give me more time? I need to talk to CEO, and hopefully he granted the payment”

“”It’s a method we should’ve done from the beginning of this project. We must deliver it also. It’s part of our agreement”

“I know that. It’s just our situation doesn’t allow us to do more than that”

“You must know the effect of not paying them their rights are the destruction and unsecure condition on site. That, with all respect, issue I can never tolerate”

“I understand…”

“I can hold down reason of leaving for not having paid, but not such as vandalism on project site. This is not right by any chances. This is wrong”, Jack continued, “ We can’t allow it to happen. We’ll take responsible, or else, I myself will take it on my own”

“Verywell then”

The days were last longer than usual on project site. For Rangga, he counted down numbers, day by day waiting for the moment to come. The moment when he could see his family again. Thus, he knew, there would be nothing last for him there. In both world of his. He lost them somehow. Now, he wish to turn back the time. To make things right from the beginning, started all over again. His wish is impossible. And so is his life.

Love, love is a verb
Love is a doing word
Feathers on my breath
Gentle impulsion
Shakes me, makes me lighter
Feathers on my breath

Teardrop on the fire
Feathers on my breath

In the night of matter
Black flowers blossom
Feathers on my breath
Black flowers blossom
Feathers on my breath… (Teardrop – Massive Attack)

He pushed it hard and harder than before. If he could cry, then he would. But tears seemed wouldn’t be such companion for this broken hearted man. He was alone. There was a hole in his heart, he never manage to fill. Promises had broken. He lost motivation and direction. Lost in translation. And these are the time and certain things as called translation in his life.

Until one day, in one of Ramadhan nights. He sat by the column inside the mosque. He recalled the last encounter – the very last, he surrender. He gave up things he thought he could ever have. He realized it was all over. There were none. He was left and casted away from his domain. He packed his things, and walked down misery in an early dawn. Destination unknown.

At the time, he was down below. In the deepest ocean. Dark and cold. He believed in God. He followed His guidance. It was the only remedy. And the only right one. As if he never heard or read before one sentence that would change his life, for good. Destiny is one thing human could never foresee. One can only pray and work, decision never his. Sincere is the answer.

In his mind bear what he ever wanted was a little happiness. A little too big in his story. To feel love. To love, he wouldn’t care for not having to be loved, as long as he could love…

…

She rushed on her way to the office. That day rain very hard. It somehow won’t slow her down to reach and be in her desk right before everything’s started. She hurry things. Little feet run chasing from left to right, created a melody of an immediate needs to be on time. And so, she made it. It was one of those days of the life of an average female employee who tried nothing but as per order.

After one day long and fueled up with heavy dose of tasks and papers, Indah was fed up tiredly. She sometimes think that her works never got to an end. She felt like a machine starting from 9 am and last for 12 ours until 9 pm. What’s left for her outside if she live her life in such way? The only left for her was her empty cozy room with her pink piggy doll, the one who accompanied her for the rest of the night. She felt lonely. Oh, yes, she is.

Indah, a 25 year old, works as an accounting in a private state owned company which runs business throughout the nations. She placed in the headquarter building which located in central business district. A quite prestigious work place to go. A dream no one reach for average talented persona. Yet, that somehow didn’t impress her. She wanted more, or to say, that’s not really what she ever wanted. It was simple things with meaningful, things that make her smile, laugh and be herself.

“Indah, I want you to come to my office. Right away”

“Alright. Just a moment, I prepare things for your report”

“So, how is it going with your job? Have you finish them? The deadline is tomorrow. You need to be hurry”

“You see, I’m doing it right now, actually all of today. I promise it will be ready by tomorrow. I will do it in over time, if necessary”

“That’s a good thing from you. You see, it’s not always about duty, it’s more to responsible. I depend on you, and we all do”

“Thank you for telling me that. Such a relieve, but to be honest, it doesn’t help much. I mean, the pressure is on me. As long as I don’t get it done, means nothing”

“I just want you to know that”

“I understand. If you don’t mind, I’d like to go back to my work. There’s a bunch of stuffs to be finished by today”

“ Work is one thing to be done for sure. Let’s talk about something else. Have you seen the latest movie Robin Hood with starring Russel Crowe? It’s a must see in my opinion, since I know you are a movie freak”

“…”

Sometimes she just wanted to scream. She wanted everyone to hear it, the sound from the deepest of her throat, runs through her lungs. And the whole room fills with her words. The pressing moments is like ticking clocks of every seconds counts. It kills her mostly. And she found no way out for such condition. One day, she’d really had enough, and probably fled away.

Though it was hard for her, she considered as a dedicated worker. Her work ethic has never fell down her co-workers. Especiallyin her boss eyes, which she got promoted to a higher rank in return. In her department, she is the sweetheart, of all. She would run to the next room, forward to next table, went to copyroom, to the floor station, to the server room, answering phone calls, replying emails and messages, and did ups-and-down through elevator. She enjoyed being her self in the office. The floor, as a dancefloor. She was dancing there. Never stop moving. And she looked good on it.

Deep inside, she is just a normal woman. Despite the whole megalomaniac office stuffs and orders, she dreams of a prince of charm riding on a white horse that one day will come knocking at her door, stole her heart, bring her flowers, on bended knee asking her one question of a lifetime. In her surroundings, most of her friends are in a relationship. That somehow incourage her to find her soulmate. Plus support from her family and best friends. It is obvious time is the only curtain for her to her dream. This even more heavier than recent accomplishments hanging on her cubical wall. Much more than that.

Weekdays are kill, weekend is to kill weekdays. Friday is her most favourite day of the week. Why? Because the day after it, will be Saturday. And the day after Saturday will be Sunday. Beautiful relieve is all in her mind. Traveling out of city, laying down on green grass, sitting on rocks under waterfall, running in the fields of pady, drinking ice coconut on a white sandy beach, watching broken waves to the shore, that she would notice as something fun and beautiful. She likes to stare at beautiful things. She’d like to be in a natural surroundings and stare at nothing. Though she knows it might add minutes in her life.

“Hey, is this all for our holiday? Are you sure nothing left behind?”

“Yes, it’s all for us, the six of us. I’m sure they will be enough for three days journey. Besides, we don’t want to bring lots of things in our pack, as it would just make heavier for our back”

“I agree. We shouldn’t bring too much stuff at one time”

“So, what’s inside you bag? I see you carry on a backpack”

“It’s personal stuffs. You know what I mean. Mostly are clothes, pants, and I also bring camera, a note book and my knitting tools. Just in case I need them for any spare time”

“Knitting tools? Are you for real? You won’t need it there. Infact, you won’t have time for such thing. We’ll be spending most of our time outside, travelling, on a beach, and else”

“Well, I said just in case, that doesn’t mean I will. Because there are still empty room in my pack, I should fill it with something”

“Alright, then. By the way, where are the others? Why aren’t they show up yet? They must’ve arrived here around 30 minutes ago by plan”

“Maybe they’re late. The traffic is worst on weekend. Let’s sit and have a drink on something, while we wait for them”

“Ok”

So, she went to holiday in a long weekend. She liked it so much. There, with her friends way back then, she had wonderful times. She enjoyed every moment of the trip. Took lots of pictures. Experienced different atmosphere from her daily life. This, she needed most, in getting rid out of rutinity. She found new life there. Hers that day is different from the one we see daily in the office. There she had fun, and laugh. Laugh like a music that tempted and brighten her world.

She looked to her surroundings and told herself how beauty nature. She sat on rocks, playing her feet in cold water, where the waterfall sets as her background.Like waterfall where she was standing. The water fall from high places, splashes to pond, and went straight to the bottom. From her point of view, it was some quite an experience. The abundant of water refresh for everyone who’s entering in reverse, it flows took carefully steps and minds. She let herself slip and go all the way. To the current and let herself drown to bottomless ground. She lost her breath in the water. She was lost. All the people were shouting and carrying help for her. But, it was her who wish for no help. She dare to take risk, drowning, and being close to death, for one reason. To feel alive again.

As if like fish, a clown fish she called Nemo. Hiding somewhere between seaweeds and rocks. Her colorful skin is orange, make a contrast frame with the green seaweeds, and many underwater plants. Find her place so no one could find her. Her free will in doing things she like in life. She was there for a while. Closed her eyes. May she found comfort and peace…

I’m so tired of being here, suppressed by all my childish fears
And if you have to leave, I wish that you would just leave
Your presence still lingers here and it won’t leave me alone

These wounds won’t seem to heal, this pain is just too real
There’s just too much that time cannot erase

When you cried, I’d wipe away all of your tears
When you’d scream, I’d fight away all of your fears
And I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have all of me…  (My Immortal – Evanessance)

In her dreams, she remembered everything. Every little thing from her past. A terrible memory that stuck inside her head. Still there in remain for sometime. Thus she wanted to erase, it took time to heal such broken heart. As she had been broken down this much. A glimpse that haunted her resulting in fear and paranoid. She tried hard and even harder to meant a healing. Each and every single day have passed. Happiness was only seconds away. But in second, it flew away. Hopes and dreams that built in years  torn apart and last to ashes to the ground. Nothing was left for her. It was only her spirit and faith that slowly acted like a medicine of a heavy disease. A call for a cure. A doctor was on his way to threat a patient.

After sought a long hour work that tired her, time to go home late at night. Hours earlier rain fell hard. It caused wet road. The air was breezing. The wind chilled. She trespassed the pouring water from above. Her clothes were wet. Her bag was too. She stared nothing at her front, and her eyes was empty for a longing meaning. Her shadow walk down below by street light was her only companion. Home to the very last. An empty room. A bright one. A place she used to hide. Alone. Thoughts were battling unrest took her as a hostage. A prisoner of her own doubt.

Nights were longer than usual, in terms of time she recall her lost in translation. It’s darker and colder. She cared for a little sunshine that would break through her black clouded heart. Gave her shinny yellow light to keep her warm. And safe. A cup of hot cofee in the morning with a toast. A new start.

In the middle of nowhere. Her thought, all she ever wanted is to be care and loved by someone that is sincere. A reflection of her life as describe in a book with a tittle “To Be a Smart and Loveable Woman”. It is her dream. It is her wish for the future. A long path she must go through. In reaching the destination. Until she finds it. Happiness.

Lost in Translation (part 1)

Prologue : Before Midnight

This is a story of two people, a man and a woman, which is happen to be met incidentally and unpurposely. The met, they thought was a way out of something heavily bothers their life. The man, needs a relieve and struggle after trouble in his marriage life. The woman, seeking and longing for a feeling of love. They both bored by rutinity in their works. One thing lead to another, the work, love, and life. They were searching for something missing, yet they hadn’t knew what it was and where to look. They thought they have broken. And they were just about to realize that something waiting for them in the back of the door where they both were passing through at the same time…

…

Chapter 1 : Strangers on Peron

It’s almost 11 pm in a business district train station of this lovely city. At present time, there’s nothing much to tell about this scene where passengers are few, left long chairs in mostly empty seated. Lightings are dimmed, saving energy for better tomorrow. Shadows are there in still and quite.

There, one man, a typical worker in middle rank sits waiting for the next train, the last train. With his working suits, a long sleeve shirt cuffed to elbow, right handed black wrist sporty watch, he carries his messenger bag which only fills with a notebook, outfitter and stationeries. A standard style for common man in motion. He gets his ticket in his hand. He looks tired, could be after some long hour meeting or tight deadline target. He doesn’t to care about his surrounding. He looks around if there’s someone he might know, some families, relatives, friends, or even lovely creatures that would’ve brighten his darken night. He found nothing and no one. He doesn’t complain.

She walks down the path to the station. She’s alone, wishing for someone to be with her. She is in a rush, wishing to get the next train ticket in which she hasn’t got yet. She used to be in place in time, never late. Always carry things in well planned. Red light won’t slow her down. As she enters the main lobby room, lead to the 2^nd level floor. Lucky for her, the locket queuing is not a traffic. She opens her purse and look for some money. It isn’t expensive, she could’ve pay with no hesitation. She chooses the middle chair where she’s the center of the lounge. Sitting down with her long breath, sigh. She looks to her cell phone, wondering if there are any short messages or missed calls for her. Even though  she knows there’s no one would call at that time. It’s just a habit where you always look something when nothing is at your door.

He looks at her, far from his reach. Thinking why is she alone? Where is she going? Where’s she work? What’s her name? And another questions bearing in his head. She looks at him at a glance. He’s just not into it. The same questions are bearing in her head about him. She ignores them. Thus, she is thinking about what happened in the day. What a long and tiring day. She manage to escape from one rutinity, she is pleased, and maybe grateful. Still no one to talk to. Only playing with her cell phone, reading messages over and over again, those she already read earlier. Her finger playing letters, later put on an ear phone, a connection of some playlist of songs. It relieves her. A second’s gateway. It’s her favorite song that’ll bring her home. She closes her eyes.

…

“Excuse me, may I sit here?”, an unknown voice woke her from her dream.

“Sure, it’s empty”, she couldn’t find more words.

“It looks like the only chance we have is the last train, huh?”, that was his way in approach for a conversation.

“Yes, and it will be arrive somewhere around two hours later. I could be rotten and dying here”, she complained. “But thankfully I have this book, which will help me keep insane in killing time”

She said that with meaningful eyes, as if she told him that it was her privacy and comfort zone. The zone which only allowed being there by herself. That’s an exit, a way out, for every dull thing she had. A way to keep her feet on the ground.

“You like reading? What kind of books do you read?”, he tried to gather some information.

“Not too specific. I read what’s suit most with my feeling. So, you can call me a moody reader”, she said it enthusiastically.

Moody reader, that was exactly what she said. He hasn’t had a single clue about her. But he began to think that she was different. Barely different from girls he has met before. Attractive in particular way. In opposite, she thought that he’s kinda lonely guy. At first she was a bit afraid of making conversation, but as the ice had melted, she began to enjoy it. What possibly worst thing happen with them by having a chat or two? Nothing.

But, then this moody reader has a name, right? It was on his mind. And just he about to asked her.

“I’m sorry, my name is Rangga. And you are…?”

“It’s Indah, my name’s Indah. Nice to meet you Rangga”,

It was a very casual conversation they had. Quite suitable for a late opening one. They didn’t mean to be in a deep, but just let it all flow like water. Questions like where do you live, what do you do for living, do you like your job, is it too far from home, what are your hobbies, what do you do in spare time, all was for appetizer. Main course was about to serve on the table.

“So, it’s a To Be A Smart And Loveable Woman?”

“What?”

“The book you are reading now, well, actually which one in your hand and you are about to read it”, he mumbled a bit for that long line.

“Oh, yes…this is. In my hand. I still have lots of pages to finish it. I certainly have rare time lately”, she moved her hands and tried to express things with her body language.

“What the book is all about? It seems an interesting topic”, he wondered with mimic on his face.

“Uhmm, it about a woman who desires to be loveable, to be love, to feel love…” she said “and for that she must be smart”. She continued, “It’s actually a combination of two, smart and lovely. It’s a way to help her reach the most desire things in her life”

He knew it. He just knew. He didn’t know for sure, but something told him that the book was a reflection of her life. Her current condition. Her most desire wants. He was told one day, You are what you read. He believed it. It explained people could be influenced by book – or any writing – that might shape them, mould them, and it was more to the way they thought. It was in their mind. And the mind  control the whole part of the body. One made us different to another creature, even as to human. Mind spoke who they are.

She talked, and talked. Unstoppable. Told him many kinds of story. It was the book for the first, but then she told another version of the mirror in which he considers to be her real life experiences. He was listening to her for he is a good listener. One hour past. It seemed that she have forgotten her book. She became the smart and loving woman. Yes, she is.

“Quite a story, huh?” she asked. She almost lost her breath like a runner to reach finish line.

“Wonderful”, he replied with a smile.

The fact was, he enjoyed every word she said. Those words combined in sentences, creating a line of story. The story of her life. Her way of telling story was a combination between in tact of mind and emotionally speaking. She had them both. Sometime she cried, but the next time she laugh. He thought that she is smart. And demonstrated how loveable she is.

Either it was on purpose or by accident, she just showed him her true color. One thing she seldomly shown to others. Even to friends she is closed with. But that true color could only be seen through her heart. He must put himself inside her, knowing what she felt, understand her, the heart is the king, emotionally in controlled. She deeply has a soft heart that could easily be touch from the inside. The lovely part of her.

“How about you?”, she asked him, “Do you like reading? What kind of books do you read?”

“Well, actually I’m more to a writer. I mean a write more than read. But I recall when I was younger, I read detective and mystery novels some by the name of Agatha Christie” he explained long.

“So, what do you write about?” she looked at him curiously.

“It’s just a blog of my own – My Place. Some short stories, mostly based on my experiences, what I saw, what I heard, what I felt. That’s just it” he tried to attract her.

“Interesting. What is your current topic?” she throw a bait hoping he bite it.

“I haven’t find a suitable title for it, but it’s about a deperate man lives in miserable life”, he continued his turn, “It’s about his life, his work, and everything about him. And about how he struggle and fight with his conditions for survive in sort of meanings… ”

Then, he started to tell a story about the writing he still haven’t manage to finish. His longest writing in his blog. Just like her, by any chance, he just told another side of his life. A hidden and deepest part of him. The story of his past. The story of his life. She looked at him closely, deeply, and listened very carefully. She said to herself  this man has broken as much as she has. That was the beginning of the story of two broken people.

When he was done. It was quite. It was empty. He couldn’t speak more of it. She couldn’t find words to express her feeling. He somehow still managed to smile. She knew there was something in his smile. Beyond that eyes, lies a deeply hurt feeling.  She could sense it. She might know the answer. There was something lost in his heart, but he didn’t know where to find the cure. May be love is the key. The key to happiness, one which is lost from his heart.

Not so long after that, their train arrived. All passengers were got on board. Including them, the two strangers in the night, who just met and bound, as if they have known each other for some time. The machinist blown his whistle. The machine was on. The train moved forward…to its destination.

Vanilla Twilight

The clouds are there alone. Up and high above. Clear, white, after pouring down heavy dose of rain. Colorful rainbow sets as foreground. I can feel as if I touch it with my skin…I see it with my eyes. I smile.

Atmosphere surrounds me is quite. I stand there beneath for a while. The yellow light shining breaks the horizon.

Faraway beyond the sea, I ‘m standing on white sands. They covers my feet, turn me still in seconds. Cold wind blows through my face. The beach is the land, same tone with the two worlds. The sound of wave falls apart as music to my ear.

In the middle, I picture it perfectly in a postcard to you…I wish you were here.

The silence isn’t so bad. Like fire this heavy wings grow lighter. Translucent of vanilla twilight. Each time it blinks, I’ll think of you.

Tonight, the stars are hiding. They appear only to kiss you. Full moon is about to begin, lights in the dark behind my minds. I starred and waiting for a sign. Safe and sound.

The dawn is over with a red line of sunrise in the end of my view. When violet eyes get brighter. Time is stop moving and the space between, I don’t feel so alone.

I’ll taste the sky and I feel alive. If voices could be heard and reach out to the past. I wishper in your ear….”Oh, darling I wish you were here”

For Beautiful – For You

…

The Writting contains lyrics and theme from Owl City – Vanilla Twilight

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