Motion

 Sometimes I just have to force myself out of the house. The silence becomes overwhelming, and yet at the same time I am rooted in place, planted there. Freedom is merely a thought that glides indistinctly in the silence. The heat has become so intense that the neighborhood itself is silent, cooking without a sound. The people are hidden in their homes and even the dogs have lost their voices. I begin the task of moving my feet, moving my legs, struggling through the sucking mud of merciless solitude. Everything takes ages. Pulling on a shirt, packing my laptop case, taking a piss, closing the windows, shutting off the fan, locking the door, as all the while the silence says Why bother? Stay awhile. Stay forever. Rest. But I know that when I finally move I will finally awake, activated by the hum of the motorbike engine, the wind on my skin, the challenge of the road. Intention. Purpose. My own presence and the presence of others. I end up somewhere full of voices, movement, hundreds of lives running all at the same time. And someone, from somewhere greets me, taps my shoulder. Pak Will! Dari mana? Sudah lama tidak ketemu, dong. A long time, yes. Forever, it seems. But now, for these moments, I live again.