Wednesday, February 15, 2006 

The Last To Start With

I don’t remember the whisperers inside of the womb when I was being told the secret of how long I’ll live.
I don’t remember how I was born in the world or how my Mom looked at me the first time I open my eyes.
I don’t remember how many times I cried or how many times I laugh myself to tears.

But I do remember that day.
The day when I leave my 22 years old home.
The day when my mom said, “Mama ikhlas…
The day when my brother held me so tight.
The last day of the first day of my life.

And I do remember you.
Every time I wake up.

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