After years if i may look back
My past is not a peaceful scenery
or a tranquil beach village that i wantto visit it again
To find again words in its white sand & fog that i wrote with u :
my pray, my promises
My past had ruined with debris of plain memory
Now its gettin' cold here when i stop walking
I need thick blanket and enter a cave u already lit,
for a while....
"Writing is a journey to a discovery"
Sidoarjo Mud
