I smelt like honey and milk

and frustrated as ever. I'm currently reading Til' We Meet Again by Yoana Dianika. I haven't quite finish but I found early cliche-ness about the storyline, a dead mother and a loving father with a girl only child, but we'll see. I also a fan of Rain Chudori, an eighteen years old girl who wrote the best stuff on earth, ever. I saw her on the anniversary issue of NYLON, found the twitter, traced her work, sleuth her blog, et cetera et cetera.

One of her best work for me is Blue. I feel the same satire and irony in the words twisting business. I love her to death, that's it.

Btw, a photo of me when I'm basically a baby.

Rumah Darmo. Now it's renovated and things had been changed. I want to be young again.

My first birthday. I want my seventeenth birthday cake to be exactly like this one.

I know I'm nowhere close 17, moreover 26 or 48 but... I'd love to be a baby again who's learning colors, not calculating sick angles on reflections and using the logic to Calculus.

P.S. You gave me butterflies please stop.