Pagar Rumahku Berubah Warna

I want to tell you a story in the clearest voice your ears can hear and your mind can follow. Rain is growing around my house. Its drops are red, purple, blue—or any color you can imagine in a child’s painting. Don’t interrupt or ask questions. This is simply how the story goes. The acacia trees shading the street and lining my fence have changed color. Their hues resemble your favorite kind of evening: a little orange, mostly red.

From behind a window with sheer curtains, the feet of the rain occasionally touch the glass, where I stand on the other side. The long-lived dry season has gone. Soon, flowers will bloom in that bedroom. Start counting sheep—one for each of your hopes. Then, nameless flowers begin to appear in the living room, kitchen, dining table, and bed. And then a thousand butterflies turn my home into a playground. You might remember this—a bedtime story with no title.