Bubbling springs. Pouring out in the reunion with the soil. Sipped by the greenery of the trees.
Growing, seeping intohuman body.
Together interweaving a harmony,
I sat still ast oundedin the twist of its rhythm
Yati still remembers the message from Mama Marcelina Anone. At that time, Mama Salin, Marcelina’s nickname, was lying helplessly on a bed in one corner of the lopo...
The two women stood face to face, having a dialogue without any sound. One took a piece of paper full of numbers scribbled down and a metal ruler in 30 cm size. Another one held a tote bag that has just finished being sewn...
One middle-aged lady playfully held the knife with a hooked tip. Just like an accomplished dancer, she swirled around and nicked the trunk of rubber trees...
"Velvet-bean tempeh. ma'am., traditional food from Wonogiri", Surati was trying to sell her bacem (marinated) velvet-bean tempeh by offering a plate of it during a meeting in Jalirejo, Wonogiri...