And so the story begins in a beautiful morning in a small town at the foot of mountain in an island south of civilisation. You can see the mountain as it stood majestic, bathing in the warm sunshine from the east. Spreading golden dust as it starts to wake the rather sleepy old town. Emong, second from a brood of six, lazily woke up. Went to a makeshift kitchen. There's a small makeshift table, made of bamboo slats to the left, and a wood-fired stove made from mud, delicately assembled by his mother, who's very proud of it. Emong took the cup of coffee his mother prepared for everyone earlier. She's the earliest to wake up. Always beat the sunrise. After he finished his coffee, begins the daily chores. Emong is tasked to feed the farm chicken and pigs. He started gathering coconuts to grate them later as feeds for chicken and as additive to the pigs' meal. After that, Emong prepares to go to school, which is a few kilometres away. And he has to walk.
After many moons of hibernation, I once again decided to wake up from slumber. To try and chronicle the sparks that are caught between the clash of thoughts and emotions. Of fantasy and reality. May the wisdom of the ages guide my hands as I begin this journey.