January 5th, 2019
It was started with a post in a Facebook. Here it goes:
"When you think you have enough with going to the field, but in the time like this, upon hearing disasters struck your country, your subconscious kept on telling you to write and report, to write and report and help people in need. You are sitting in your desk writing proposal for your professional project at your campus, but your mind keeps on wandering and focusing somewhere else. Journalism is not merely a job for some people, it is a calling. Once you are hooked, you will still have that feeling in yourself. It is eternal. Selamat bekerja teman-teman wartawan yg pergi meliput langsung ke Palu. Be safe."
December 28th, 2018. Three days before the new year eve.
It’s still five pm in Lincoln, but the sky outside was already dark like it was eight. Outside and inside were the same. Cold. She had not turned on the heater inside her apartment.
Here what she could find around that time: white snow covered the empty streets and the rooftop of the apartment building, scattered papers and books on the floor, messy blanket on the bed, creased newspapers all over the flower patterned sofa, cinnamon pancakes on a plate with peanut butter jam in the kitchen and a cold water for the coffee in the saucepan.
She was sitting on the sofa and looking straight to a poster of John Lennon and his ‘Imagine’ lyrics. Her mind was blank, but her heart was not. She started to feel as if she was sinking, going down, down, and down.