There may come a day when we have nothing left to say.
When the conversation stops and we’re facing our defeat.

When the time comes, let’s have a picnic at the Arctic.
On the cold winters or the cool summers.
Looking at the horizons, watching people falling in love with the stars.
Holding the paints, covering grounds with pastel colors.
It is the color of bliss.
Then, let’s just stay for a little while.

Ada tempat-tempat yang tidak bertambah tua.

Ia abadi dalam ruang-ruang waktu.

Hanya kita yang merasa bertambah usia, hanya kita yang merasa telah berubah.

Memory can change the shape of a room; it can change the color of a car. And memories can be distorted. They’re just an interpretation, they’re not a record, and they’re irrelevant if you have the facts.

Leonard Shelby

…might be a number. Too many or too little, that is what matter.

Things that you wanted to acquire might not need thousand steps, but it requires all your might wholeheartedly.

Good luck :)

The urge of letting go all problems sometimes higher than the possibilities of remembering where you stand. The glimpse of moving images and constant darkness, however, is another story.

There is lie buried in every city. Beneath the concrete and the glass wall. Behind the alley and the slump. Through the sewer and the highroad. Between day and night that overlap beyond the moving technicolor light.