Saved Space // Safe Space

Well, this is my very first blog post as a married woman! I'm sure so many of you are looking for the wedding photos (especially those of you who attended). We actually do have those photos and I'm just not able to post them right now because I need stable WiFi, and our apartment (yay!) does not yet have that.

On an unrelated note, I had to go back to Singapore to get another Visa Kunjungan Sosial Budaya. Seeing as we left for this sudden trip only about five days after getting married, we turned it into a honeymoon-slash-errand. Some of the places we went: Bras Basah Complex, the National Library, Bugis, Haji Lane. We also got to meet dearest Bobby and have lunch with him at a lovely Indian place called Zam Zam.

Singapore is an absolutely beautiful and extraordinarily efficient place, especially when compared to Indonesia, which looks rather provincial in Singapore's shadow. Erik was very enthusiastic about the MRT system and about the width of the pedestrian lanes, which are, admittedly, awe-inspiring. So, I suppose I owe you all wedding photos/post and one more post about our adventures in Singapore (documented by our handy Instax Mini 8). I promise I will get around to that. As soon as possible. I swear.

Anyways, so as not to leave you empty-handed, I will share some of my recent writing practice with you. Dear honeybugs! Writing has always been such a joy for me—a passion that has consumed me since elementary school. This practice is considered practice for a reason, and has not yet been polished or edited whatsoever. In any case, I hope you find some glint of inspiration between these meager lines.

saved space / safe space harmless splinters architecture of life prismatic echo

1. You keep the key to our apartment in your car because we still have exactly 1 week and two days before we can move in. But secretly I have been moving all of our dreams there so that they will be ready to consume us once we arrive / on the kitchen table, or in bed / After we fight, you take my hand and tell me, again: in the end, we will always be just fine.

2. The sound of the old bunk bed in Matthew’s room falling apart. Rotten to the core. We used to be friends, kid – where’d all that go? There is a thorn that has been lodged in my right palm for over ten years. The skin has closed over it, encapsulating it in warmth. Still, it does not bloom.

3. There is a house. It is ours. It is made of concrete, wood, glass, and hope. It is covered by flowers, assorted blues and purples and white: soft, gentle hues that belie a promise of honest mistakes and, after, forgiveness. Ivy creeps along the left wall. Within each room hope rests tenderly in the air, hanging, like good fruit. I cannot explain the house. I cannot call it love. It is something deeper than love, and far more painfully desperate – like a terrible longing to breathe together.

4. My wedding ring has never left my finger. If I look closely at it all of our worn memories glint with the promise of death, and of another life after it. Tell me if I’ve gone crazy, but I think it’s a lot like the holy water at church. All that holiness, coming into contact with air and fragmenting into many-colored blessings. What a crazy thing.

5. (I just don’t want to fight with you. / I don’t either). (I love you. / Me too). Between us was no art, no elegance as common language, nothing that might have indicated that we would grow into each other. But that was what happened, until we were continuously contracting and expanding together, separated by only a few degrees. I sigh, you groan, we make music, melody and countermelody, infinite variations on a single theme.

As soon as I get stable WiFi I'll make sure to post the pictures from Sendangsono and (probably more interesting) the wedding and also Singapore! I'm so sorry for the wait but I love you all very much and am grateful for your patience. Thank you for being so gracious and loyal.

My love, as always,