Fiction Campus
Prologues

The farewell was forced. I got off from ‘connector’ on campus bus to University of Melbourne. My first step descendant was retorted by the restless gaze of the sky. Far from the equator.

How fried rice and ‘gado-gado’ so I remembered for two years to be a scholarship rapper in the country of kangaroos. My eyes go back and forth looking at the clock on my millennial phone. I don't know what crazy plan God wrote for me.

This early morning the sky was still clean and the wind chirping cheerfully tickled the pores of my skin. Preparing a graduation speech and returning to the land of Tambora is the worst business at this time. In a few minutes, a wonderful person I'll meet.

It was the man who implied our dream on the Melbourne horizon. Just now his manly instincts were escorting to my place. Marking my premonition that he would arrive, made my chest flutter, full, and blazing.

I'll meet him at a cafe to give him the shabby papers and pictures of the Melbourne city I promised you. The moment where the old bike was packing that simple, seedy farewell, we hugged.

It left me and my dream to see our poor college grow up big and healthy. Yes, in the land of Tambora. And after that, that adventure of love-studded ideals is tucked away in our story that I have written. Mus, meanwhile, had been sitting mute in his lounge chair in the cafe room. 

“I have to play a role in the story

it's with you and Hajar, Mus. It became a fictional campus. The official Hajar drifted from my expectations. You and he were a tough choice. You wouldn't mind if I wrote it all down as a continuation of this eternity. You don't berate the bad taste I managed to the end. Might as well. If I turn back the clock, then I'm starting from our introductory event on that historic day. You must be patient for the impropriety I offer.”

“Justice?” ask Mus flat.

“What?”

“It is better everything is complicated from the beginning,” the advice is even flatter. “It can make a mighty Hajar in your country even though forever you can no longer see the color of the sweet sour sound.”

I'm a little surprised, “No, we should be loving writers for this story. Isn't a struggle story impressed to have a little romance also tucked neatly?"

“Hem ..” Mus expressed how I do not understand the form. One who was once a poor Kencana Beach child bleeding ‘sasak’ it seems to be full of pyramid analysis. 

“I just want my dreams and love to be stored in Hajar in this educational philosophy."

“You crazy?”

“That's my great hope in the repetition of this story."

“Then?”

“Now, I also can't bear to leave you, Mus."

“No.”

“I can meet you and grab the Melbourne wall for preferring our friendship!”

“I want. Hugely. But ..."

“Already. I understand what it's hard for you to say, Big Boss."

Mus inexplicably kept the substance of the vague concern. “Do not rush. There is a love that has to sacrifice your dreams here. Come back to Hajar after everyone loves you in that strange friendship.”

Well, that's the first edition of my mind-mus combination. I began to be able to assemble plots and write fictional campus stories, from the plight of my previous life on that campus. Hajar has become the best dreamer girl along with this story. I'll start that simplicity. You probably wouldn't believe that education is so important. To channel the mislove and plot of my struggle, as a poor Kencana Beach child in the philosophy of education.

I want to reopen the story when all men are not yet themselves. As the universe's essence covered the most fragrant carcass ever to pierce the air of breathing that afternoon, the hot afternoon was among the blistering heat in the opening session of receiving small candles on the fictional campus.

They I hate so much in the far away days. Before the end my nadis decided to love them more widely, from all forms of science that are familiar in prestigious universities. So dark and dense nebula above the atmosphere that afternoon, beat the fatigue of the world marathon runners though. 

When the ladder of kunaiki tension with the excitement of curiosity, how could the place of education be so open and accepted by the community so beautifully. And thought came to my head day after day, when it opened my blind eyes.

When the laskar rainbow slapped the shoulders of people's awareness of the invisible ugly ghost, about the world of education along with their ideals of sincerity. Something reincarnated in the fabric of life. Education on a campus. You probably won't believe that anything can grow and develop freely here like extraterrestrial life. 

I will lead you to the trough of a tragic, yet delightful struggle of ideals on the heart. As long as you have a low soul, you can be with me to dive into three-dimensional romance and forbidden molecules of romance that make God angry, to look at a fragment of attraction between a stupidest human being, with a beautiful young teacher who is tens of carats.

Although it becomes an element of igniting the system of anxiety alone. Which made me glare without missing a second, when my footsteps vowed to definitely enter the lecture room in that semester. Later you can judge for yourself what life prose I offer you. I hope you understand my metaphorical style. You have to be careful that your heart stays young.   

***

That afternoon was the time of orientation of the new students that made me most happy. There is no grandeur of the image of laughter even the game is just one rope raffia, which implies an extraordinary lesson in ending the problems that hit us hard.

I don't know what's going on inside those two heads. I try to keep a regular smile. Assuming they are also equally including the economic downturned humans like me. Anyone who studies here, must be mostly dreamers who are discouraged by the world. 

And for you may hatch from a University of the caliber of UI, ITB, UNJ, or abroad even though it is the greatest achievement that can be neatly decorated in the robes of your future. Have you ever glanced a little to the side of the world of higher education status, which scented cassowary screech?

He screams every day asking for your awareness, so that the cavity of caring grows and you become aware, that it is not a matter where you swallow education, he said, but what is the serum of the struggle you are hooking up for in the face of future fiction. Mr. Iwan Jazadi, who if I'm the most human proves the truth of my earlier statement. You know a small campus graduate with one-third of the top of the building is just a framework of immature poles, can hook themselves to Melbourne, Australia.

And its success is still accompanied by pillars of the framework of the educational building.  However, this true story not only offers him but how forbidden love, dreams of immorality, independence without affection, a hundred dreams written on a sheet of paper riot, and strange friendships are heavily influenced by revolutionary scents. 

At the end of the story, you will believe that the small world with the greatest dream capacity is here. This is what I finally call the green house, the fictional campus in our story.

My green college gave me a precious story of sadness, the distress of a street beggar just to get a moral score, and the most colorful smile among the fishes in the script sky until this story reached you. And you must be sorry to know that here in my green house, friendship with a lecturer is not impossible. 

The relationship is as fragrant as a parent with their children, who every day ask for love rations. All of the outstanding results are fruitful, sourced from the power of affection between us and our parents who hold a lecturer degree. And I call my college a Fiction Campus.