It’s as if the body knows the air it breathed almost forty year ago.
I felt so at home on this trip spending time by the rice paddies in Ubud. Maybe it was the spontaneity of getting a $6 USD haircut or the fondness I heard in the voices of the Balinese I met when I mentioned that I was born in Jakarta.
As I sketched on the steps facing an old palace, a white dog came and sat next to me for a while, keeping me company until I put the pen down.
There was something in the air,
something deep and sweet.
