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joyful july<3

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📍Marugame Udon, KBP | 25.06.25

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📍Little Contrast, KBP | 25.06.25

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“Grief is love's souvenir. It's our proof that we once loved. Grief is the receipt we wave in the air that says to the world: Look! Love was once mine. I love well. Here is my proof that I paid the price.” —Glennon Doyle Melton.

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📍Ten 10 Ramen, Ciwalk | 21.06.25

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📍Kota Baru Parahyangan | 12.05.25 & 25.06.25

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📖 : SORE - Suryana Paramita

"Ombak dan senja itu sama. Mereka pergi lalu datang kembali dalam bentuk yang tak pernah sama. Kepergian senja dan ombak itu cepat sekali, secepat kedatangan mereka. Kita baru saja duduk dan menikmati kehadiran mereka, tiba-tiba ombak dan senja sudah pergi. Anehnya, kita gak pernah mengeluh, karena kita percaya, mereka pasti akan kembali.” —hal 139

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watch SORE for the 2nd time; still amazed and it resonates with me deeply<3

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In Yandy Laurens we trust<3

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🎬 : SORE - Istri Dari Masa Depan | Yandy Laurens

“Hanya ada tiga hal yang tidak bisa diubah dalam hidup ini; masa lalu, sakit hati, dan kematian.” —Marko

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Someone said grief is like glitter. It clings to everything. Hides in corners. Slips into your socks. Appears on your fingertips when you're reaching for a glass of water, or brushing your hair before bed. It settles in places no one else can see. And sometimes, it sparkles. Sometimes, it doesn't. And I think that's true—not because it makes grief prettier, but because it makes it stubborn. Grief does not knock politely and leave when you ask. It spills. It stains. It stays. People imagine grief as a clean wound: blood, bandage, better. But really, it's a messy room you can't fully clean. A scent that lingers even after all the windows are opened. A sound you keep hearing long after the music stops. Some people lose things they love—books, cities, voices, future plans—and keep walking as if nothing happened. Others crumble at the touch of a sweater sleeve or the sound of a name. There's no proper timeline for learning how to live with what you miss. Some days you'll do it gracefully. Other days, you'll choke on it. That's still living. And maybe that's the kindest thing about grief: it's evidence that something mattered. That someone left fingerprints on your heart so brightly, the light still catches on them. That you lived a moment so fully, its echo still finds its way back into your lungs. So if it hurts, maybe that's okay. If it glitters in the dark and you cry when no one is looking, maybe that's okay too. You are not weak for remembering. You are not broken for carrying pieces of people with you. That's what makes you real. That's what makes you capable of love. And love, in all its forms, is the reason we ever grieve at all. —latehourletter

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You'll find love even though I leave. That's what the world does, right? It keeps spinning even when your chest feels too heavy to breathe. It keeps handing out new hearts, new stories, new names, as if the ones we broke were never enough to make it stop for just a second. You'll find love, even when my absence starts settling into the corners of your room, when my name fades from your lips like a language you used to speak fluently but can't remember anymore. Someone will love you, maybe with steadier hands, maybe with less fear, less hesitation. Someone will love you the way I always wanted to but never fully knew how. They'll kiss your shoulders without carrying the weight of our unfinished sentences. They'll look at you and see only possibilities, not the ruins of us, not the ghost of me. And it's terrifying, knowing that the world doesn't pause for heartbreak, that love keeps showing up in new forms, even when you're still trying to scrape the old ones off your skin. I've told myself this lie over and over, that I want that for you. That I want someone to love you better, to make you forget every flaw in me, every crack I left behind, every stupid way I couldn't stay. I told myself I want you to heal, to move forward, to be happy without me haunting your happiness. But the truth is… I lied. I lied with every smile, every quiet "I'm okay," every rehearsed goodbye. I lied because the honest, selfish, brutal part of me doesn't want you to find another lover. I don't want to be replaced like some chapter you can just close. I don't want someone else to know the sound of your laugh when you're tired, or the way your eyes soften when you talk about the things you love. I don't want anyone else tracing the lines of your palms, learning the map of your fears, or memorizing the way you fall asleep when you finally feel safe. It's ugly. It's selfish. Its human. I want to be the one you can't forget, the one your new lovers never quite measure up to, the quiet ache in your favorite song, the shadow in every "I'm fine" you tell them. I want to be the story you never fully finish. So yeah, you'll find love, even though I leave. But God, I hope you don't. I hope you look for them and every face feels unfamiliar. I hope you hold their hand and still feel the ghost of mine. I hope you kiss them and it tastes like a comparison you can't swallow. Because as much as I leave… the most honest thing I've ever felt… is that I never wanted you to love anyone the way you almost loved me. But still, what can I do now? I can't hold back time. I can't force your heart to stay in a place that only hurts. All I can do is stand here and carrying all the love I never learned how to say right, and pray. I pray to God you find the kind of peace that never leaves you. I pray life treats you gently, the way I never could. And even though I walk away, my prayers will always follow you. —Written by Soren.

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🎬 : Our Movie (2025)

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ray bradbury

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: semasa.

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letters from PATA.

sudah coba untuk scan ke google translate, tapi esensi puitisnya jadi hilang🫠

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three things i loved in this third weeks of July<3