new year

entering 2011 with renewed determinations. tic toc of the clock keeps ticking. distant stars keep shining. new year is coming. another milestone. marking the moment we blacken the pages in the books of our lives. with lessons.

last night i walked the historic distric of capitol hill on the new year's eve. national mall. passing by the neighbourhood where the solemnness of january icy night resides. my thoughts were mainly of a face and a name. and at times, of reflection of lamplights once seen from across the bridge in inverness scotland. a strange fragmented combination of thoughts. in two hours of stroll at night, dc offered me space and silence. no firework. no trumpet. no loud music. no jubilation. no camera flash. no giggles. no traffic. just stars, ducks, frozen pond, and heartbeats of the moon.

a small groups of people sitting on the staircase of lincoln memorial hall. holding in their hands a drink or two, which the security guards later took from them due to the respect and courtesy to the heroes in memoriam.

i saw a merry couple wedded in the first minutes of the new year's eve. only a small number of guests were present. a priest. and an accoustic guitar. what a timing for a wedding. when the night was dark and air piercingly cold. midnight and twinkling red lights on the top of washington monument obelisk were their witnesses.

jakarta celebrated the new year's eve twelve hours ahead of me. twelve hours that separated us in two different numbers of years.

bismillah, 2011 is coming in. and with steadfastness it brings within, i will keep on walking.

dearest snow

snowflakes greet me from outside the window, 'hi vahd, i see your long weekend has been a good one. i'm sorry it's almost over. i know how you feel about this. tomorrow you must resume your duty, fill your cup until it's full enough - one day.'

left, right, up and down. look! - how lively the snowflakes fly. they seem weightless. the gravity tries to pull them down to the ground, but winds command them to other directions.

if one snow touched my window; it melted almost immediately. and, like tears on a face of a sad person, it leaves a trace on the glass - for a while. until the wind wipes away the trace, sooner rather than later.

and the trees in the garden, except the pines, are leafless now. they will remain like that for a couple of weeks. when spring is here.

e c h o e s . . . .

cloudless everyday you fall

upon my waking eyes
inviting and inciting me to rise

and through the window in the wall

come streaming in on sunlight wings
a million bright ambassadors of morning

and no-one sings me lullabies
and no-one makes me close my eyes
and so I throw the windows wide

and call to you across the sky...

- red leaves of autumn, north bethesda, october 2010 (v)

autumn in new york

it's about the time for me to write again. september is still here. and so is america.

september. a month less-celebrated, but also, to borrow tom jones' words, a time of the year when life is slow and mellow. when grass is green, and grain is yellow.

the month when love is an ember about to billow. even in the deep frost of december, when you know the snow will follow, it's nice to remember the fire of september.

for me, september means something more. a rainbow caught me then. in the middle of new york jungle. with em. and everything is by the way.

meulaboh

tomorrow, dear friends, i will go to meulaboh. a seaside town located in aceh province. in december 2004, meulaboh was devastated by the visit of mr. tsunami. things were in ruin then. now, five years later, i go there for the first time in my life. my coming is to see the inauguration of a hospital donated by the people of singapore our neighbour. the itinerary is set. and the programme is made.

aceh, indian ocean, here i come... ya huala huala ehaaaa....!

swans of astimpas

du du du... du du du... see now there are swans in my office's cubical. simple origami paper creativity in various sizes. mostly white, sitting on top of our four pcs. manky made them. du du du... du du du... these swans of astimpas dont float on the english river. but that's absolutely okay.

m

there's a time when a man needs to fight and a time when he needs to accept that his destiny's lost, the ship has sailed and that only a fool will continue. the truth is i've always been a fool.

(ed bloom, big fish)