LO-D
A LITTLE AFTER WAKING UP
Tan …
March 23, 2019, in Paris
10 More Years Outside Of Dream Creation Ritual Dee
I was taken up virtually serving Professor Vundegurt's duties last night. Calling me in a time of resentment for boring days, just adds to the problem. In detail it's ridiculous.
But I couldn't refuse that task. He said I should fight for a Tanzanian citizen with the same skin as at night. Blacker.
The destination is in a popular cafe in the Saint Germain des pres region. The meeting that night was even less able to be called a formal meeting. A Professor from the Dutch-blooded Tanzanian lands, detailing a task that must be completed.
When the idea revealed itself, instantly the nature of my lecturer appeared more wild. The result was that I carelessly accepted the challenge of the white-haired man, who was willing to accept me as the recipient of the scholarship. An Indonesian like me feels obvious about the impossibility of a belief.
And you must know .. I'm pretending to be an atheist who is looking for God openly. And the only one other than myself who knows this fact is Professor Vundegurt.
This man embraces all the corners of my innocence, in the Islamic data search space. That's why he asked me to string the essay.
“He is a new as a good muslim,” short professor tells a story.
It is covered by Tanzanian blood attached to its veins. I'm lucky to be with his mind every day. Caused me to plunge beautifully into the bottom of a big problem and hit me repeatedly later on.
The convert from Tanzania, that's the one I should meet as the point of the matter and as the subject that should accompany me according to the Professor's direction.
But my story is not a puppet in essay writing. Because I just want to find Dee as soon as possible. But I don't think it's easy. Some days there's a cavity of consciousness entering me, right at the heart of conscience. It's terbesit Dee that I might be able to meet through this essay assignment.
You may think this is absurd but believe me I can do it and there are no coincidences in this world. God always extends His hand even to the most sinful man. Sorry I overdone it.
My mind sailed to the consequences of this task. I called my best friend John Joseph Massawe to pick me up after a discussion with the Professor. John says it is not necessary. He himself will go to my place. That night at the cafe I had a look at life with the man from Tanzania.
When we met, there was a strange premonition that set me up. And we were sitting in a cafe called ‘de Flore’ in Paris with John. And the fact is that it's where he works. Sorry just told you. The professor suddenly called me as a close-up joke, before a few sentences were answered.
“Hey, Tan! You are so bad in fortune, haha.”
I still don't understand the semantics of the sentence. He's always been like that. A linguist who roiled to idolize a Chomsky. Chomsky, a father of language science who conducted research on the mindset and reasoning content of his own brain.
Describes how self-intelligence can be measured by the individual owner. And I can't imagine more than that to snare a big conclusion. If there is a task, I always feel face to face with a Chomsky if called Professor Vundegurt.
“I am with my close friend,” reply me flat.
“You meet someone else? Is it for long time?” professor's voice sounded passive.
I know he's in a convert's soul conflict. Well, he's also a convert since the last few weeks. The cause of the thought-provoking of the essay task.
“Nothing the space time to look for the good source,” I complained to him.
Hoping he'd turn off his phone because of my lackluster code. What became more dominant than that was the Professor's reply.
You need to remember that I said before about there being no coincidences in this world. My words hit themselves. You want to know what the Professor said?
“Tan, your best source is your close friend. I have prepared him for you."
I spontaneously raised my face towards John and guessed the truth of my sudden hypothesis.
“John? You are ..”
John smiled to signify the truth. But I still doubt that Professor's words are true. And I don't know how to sculpt that feeling. If I had to describe it, it would have been nothing and no price to write.
I'll continue. Who would have thought Professor Vundegurt was spying on centimeters of my life. Professor told me a short story. The professor knows I need a best friend. And John was the one in my head the last few days.
He knew I wanted to see John. And the person who led him to emigrate, was none other than John Joseph Massawe, my friend. The best speaker of his choice was none other than the skinned man in front of me that night.
There was a little smile. But apparently not. Not at all. That night was the point of all the calamities that turned me into the most beautiful demon you would ever know. Just to bring Dee back with me.
My greatest intention to keep the hidden history of 1946 a secret was less than finding a fragment of Dee's scent. I took the difficult parallel path to complete Professor Vundegurt's task without losing the smell of the girl's life. And it won't be as easy as my estimated pulse.
I installed John's thoughts to drive away my confusion about the essay's duties. Of course the only way is to discuss with him, the speaker who the professor believes is best for the essay task.
I haven't been able to guess the reason Professor wanted me to go through the embankment essai of the world. At least that's the Professor's assumption and the mystery hope that I don't know.
When I got to John at 09:37 p.m., after the visual deal, he looked really moody. His face's oxygen looks dull. I wasn't sure I was going to interview her that night.
And as always, he always seemed to think when people who buy coffee paced in the intention of going home. Then I saw an opportunity take away his time.
"You okay?" my book.
John didn't touch my pretense, in English earlier as a ridiculous opening for a meeting. He sat in the customer's seat and pressed his cheery forehead against the table. He began to lose himself.
“Nothing to be got here,” I continued to try to sneak and beg his consciousness that seemed very tired. “Are you sure want to be here?"
“Hem ..” that's all that's heard from him. "Stop mocking me with that insignificant English, Tan."
Eventually, he managed to restore himself. I also sat beside him. Waiting for his dream to end. As I stared at John's exhaustion, I was struck by the reason Professor Vundegurt chose John as my source. There must be a reason.
“You're here to snatch freedom again, Tan?” suddenly John muttered. “There is always something special when there is sincere love in every day. Yes, right?”
“John?”
“What do you mean?”
“Haha, sorry I didn't realize that it was you. I am so overwhelmed with my wife.”
“Hem, yes.
“You want to start the interview with my tired mind?"
“I don't ..”
“I'm missing my wife, Tan. You know the philosophy of a husband's longing?”
I'm thinking. John was married a year ago. I was still in Turkey at the time. When my sister and my mother went to Indonesia, I chose not to wait for Dee when my memory of the dream ten years ago re-energized.
“John, where's your wife? Why have I never seen him work with you here?”
“She went to Indonesia a month ago. He was an amnesiac. You know why I loved Islam and converted a year ago?”
“Yes, you told me first. Your wife taught you Islam. But, I just found out that he's an amnesiac? You married her at the time ..”
“True, the length of the story. If you meet him you might be able to understand without having to be told.”
“But ..”
“If you need my thoughts on that essay as a convert, then just go to my wife.”
“Why should I change the source?”
“Because my best thoughts are more deeply recorded in my wife's affection. Sorry haven't told you yet, she's a Journalist.”
“It's bad.”
“Bad?”
“A journalist of calibre usually adventurous and hard to find thinking.”
“Let's relax, he's still in Indonesia. He left a month ago. After retrieving data of Rohingya people who were expelled from Myanmar and displaced to the border of Bangladesh.”
“Indonesia yes ..."
“You haven't been there in a long time, have you? You can see your sister and mother at once.”
“I'm not sure.”
“If pessimistic from the beginning, it is better to back off. You'll spit out time in vain.”
“Yes, I'll be there. But with you.”
“I?”
“You must be with me in this situation of mass longing, John. You don't want to pick up your missed pieces at the equator?”
John tilts his lips and chin, “But, Tan ..”
“You never want to tell your wife's real name. Keysha is the pseudonym you created. You never even told the chronology case of your meeting with him correctly.”
“Yes, we'll go there and you'll know for yourself the storyline essentially. Are you able to exchange ideas with someone who loves me only?” John behaves like a male beetle that is only one on the earth.
“Basic, you are,” I have a small involvement. “Then what is the pseudonym of your wife to you?”
“My pseudonym is similar to my sister's name.”
“Hem, you have a sister too apparently. But, you always want me to guess the content of your conversation and never tell you directly even if it's a small thing like a name,” I'm jolted at the thing that John always hid from me.
“A name of a story.”
“You philosophize now?”
“Haha, Tan, let's discuss your essay for a bit before transferring your mind to a high-class human like my wife.”
“Good, but aren't you exhausted?”
“True too. How about we discuss this on the plane?"
“So, you're going to Indonesia with me?”
“Yes, I think it should. I don't know what it would be like to just leave my wife's phone number to you with a rusty mentality.”
“Oh?”
“Handering, Tan. I mean, I can't have you dealing with him for essai .. stuff he never even thought of before as a writer.”
“Hem, so. Well, other people can always judge ourselves extensively better, John," I feel John is still manipulating things.
“So, when do we book a plane ticket?”