lost

so, it's december already. the last month of the year. the month when probably lots of people are checking their to do list, and thinking about what to do next. month of reflection. month of hope. for the future.

and Bianglala was worried about the snow. It's December, and she didn't see any sign of snow. and she was worry that probably the snow would never come.

though her mother was worry about something else. or to be exact, about everything else. about all of the dreams that she have, or used to have. about the kind of life that she have, and wish to have. about the things that she's done, or she wish that she didn't do. about all of the people that come and go. come and go. some people leaves mark deeper than some nine inch nails.

two women, riding on the same bike, on the stretch of ten minutes of rainy bicycle drives are pondering about what's important on their lives.

sometimes, the day is bright and the sky is saffron. sometimes, it's rainy and grey. sometimes it's foggy and depressing white.

and here i am on the first day of december thinking about nothing. i know what's lost. it's a compass. i knew i put it somewhere, like a long, long, long time ago.

maybe in another life...