The Traces of Destiny
Celebrations

The moon began to move up slowly at night, shining yellow and then approaching orange when it reached the roof line of the exhibition hall Cinta Puspa and the National Wildlife that looked towering, sturdy, their first stop on a world tour of melata and orchid flowers.

The building was an ancient Victorian two-story building with wide, circular walls that was in desperate need of painting. On the terrace, a small group of people gathered as two women, dressed in safari, stood with their necks surrounded by a pale yellow snake and about the size of Pak rote's thigh, they present some interaction skills with the animals. The audience listened enthusiastically.

A man who is thought to have been driven and forced forward by his friends becomes the first prop in the story of a large snake winding accident and its handling.

The lazy-looking snake, writhing not wholeheartedly beside the hand of the man who was beginning to break out in cold sweat. Slowly the snake reached his body towards the neck.

"Relax, there will be no kissing or hugging as long as you do not struggle suddenly and excessively."

The woman in safari clothes tried to calm the man whose legs began to waver by patting the man's shoulders gently and asking him to breathe slowly to feel relaxed.

Garin held back his gel laugh watching the situation, no. Actually he was imagining more if only the model man suddenly could not hold back the rate of his urine due to the insistence of fear. It would certainly be everyone's story to take home and would be told over and over again in the following days.

It was interrupted to watch Saras and Garin being distracted as the glass doors of the exhibition hall shifted open, from within the faint sound of young primates and small squeaks from the enclosure.

Screams of fear from the chimpanzee whose fur was pulled by a little girl with Dora's hair and the creaking of the door of the cage that opened and closed, also the murmuring of the crowd and the slow laughter of visitors .

Suddenly the two women in safari walked over while bowing their heads, the lights on the terrace from the exhibition hall were quite dim that night.

- a long, pale figure with a beautiful yellow patch moved gently swerving towards the feet Saras and Garin were in.

One of the women gestured somewhat of Garin or Saras not to make a sound or move. Don't panic, it's the code.

As the slacker long animal moved ever closer, Saras instinctively moved towards Garin, half turning towards him as he grabbed Garin's arm with a grip that shocked the man.

Up close, her hair looked soft, and although it was slightly different in color to Maudy's hair, Garin recalled what it was like to comb Maudy's hair with her fingers as they lay together at night.

A minute later, as the two officers muttered words to the long round, the animal stopped moving and obediently returned to the arms of the two guards and was taken away.

Over the next few hours, Garin and Saras visited a number of exhibition halls. They are invited to enter for a short tour to some places, in others they stand on a porch or are entertained in a park with stories about the history of planting or the origin of animals.

Garin had been on this tour before as a camat, and as they walked from booth to booth, Garin suggests places of interest to visit and tells stories about endemic plants and animals that are not part of this year's exhibition.

They walked down the cracked cement pavement, muttered to each other, enjoying the night. Slowly, the crowd began to dwindle and some showrooms began to close by ten that night.

When Saras asked if he was ready for dinner, Garin shook his head."There's one more stop" he said. He led Saras into the street, holding his hand, gently touching his thumb to the woman's hand.

From one of the towering walnut trees, there came the sound of owls exclaiming as they passed by, then fell silent again. Up ahead, a group of people dressed in animal clothes were entering a public park.

In the corner, Garin pointed towards a large two-story house, a house that was quiet from the crowd as he had expected. The windows were large and black, as if they were closed from the inside. The lighting is provided only by dozens of candles lined on the porch fence and a small wooden bench near the front door.

Next to the bench sat an old woman in a rocking chair, her legs covered in blankets. In a terrifying light, he looked like a mannequin, his hair white and thinning, his body weak and fragile. His skin looked clear under the flickering wax, and his face was wrinkled deep, like shards of old porcelain cup glass.

Garin and Saras sat on the terrace swing while the old woman observed them.

"Hello, Miss Baby Cilawagi," Garin said slowly, "are your audience crowded tonight?"

"Just like previous events" Baby Cilawagi replied. His voice was hoarse, like the voice of a lifetime smoker. "You know how it goes, don't you, Mr Camat?" He squinted at Garin, as if trying to see him from a distance.

"So, you've heard the story of The Birds, haven't you?" Said the old woman.

"I think he should hear it," Garin replied seriously as he pointed towards Saras.

For a moment, Baby Cilawagi's eyes seemed to sparkle, and he grabbed the teacup beside him.

Garin tucked his arm into Saras's shoulder, pulling him closer. Saras felt herself relaxed under the touch of the man by her side. Always that comfortable with him. Saras smelled a smile.