MAN ON THE HILL

  PROLOGUE SUPERNOVA — For those who want to LI VE — Welcome. What you are ab o ut to read will not a l ways be easy to understand. In Supernova we will, be talking about billions of years of history. We will follow the movement of something that moves faster than light. We will deal with things that can only be dimly grasped by abstract faith yet nevertheless live deep down in the shrive l ed-up cells of our minds.   Please be patient. Within every complexity there is always a simple pattern each one of us can understand. Perhaps it is so simple that our intel l ect, which for some reason always tries to make everything as complicated as possible, will not be able te accept it. Even so, we will try to study it, to understand how one simple act can destroy a ll co m p l exities. I am not a teacher. You are n o t a student. I simp l y want to show y o u the f acts. To unravel the spider’s web. To untie the knots in an endless silver thread. There is on

  Title : Supernova: The Knight, The Princess and Falling Star Author : Dee Lestari Genre :Drama, Supernatural, Sci-fi celebrating their 10th anniversary, a gay couple, Reuben and Dimas, intended to create something together. Reuben, a professor of Psychology Faculty, was obsessed with quantum physics and its link to spirituality. While Dimas, a professor in literature, was adamant to present Reuben’s wacky theories in a popular fiction format for readibility factor. Reuben gave in and they started writing a novel together. Based on a classic fairytale Knight, Princess, and The Falling Star, they designed their story and characters. The Knight was portrayed by a successful executive named Ferre. He  had everything going on for him and was on top of his career. But, an interview he had with a reporter named Rana changed his life. Ferre fell in love with Rana who reminded him of a princess in fairy tale he once read. The problem was, Rana was already married to Arwin. Yearning for freedo

    Does free will truly exist? Does man truly exist? Okky Madasari explores the seminal questions of mankind and humanity in her latest novel. A struggle arises between the two main characters, Sasana and Jaka Wani, in the search for freedom from all restraints - from those of the mind and body, to restraints imposed by tradition and family, society and religion, to economic domination and the shackles of authority Prolouge  

 September 13, 2013        My whole life is a trap.          My body was the first trap. Then my parent, then everone I knew. Then it was everting I knew, everyting I did. they were snares scattered throughout my life. they served to cage me, to shackle me, to build high in which I would be trapped all thirty year of my life.      Now I'm here. In a trap visible to eye, hemmed in by actual wall. Caged, held hostage, imprisoned, for who know how long.     Maybe I'll be able to hold out, waiting until the day of my release-even though it won't be true freedom. Because when that day come, I'll be trown right back into another trap.     Or maybe I'll just end it all, get as far away as possible. Escape from my bodyand rise above these walls surronding me, leaving my life behind.     I don't know yet if tomorrow morning I continue this story, that means I'm still here, that i've chosen to remain trapped in my own life, caged, and held captive; that I"ve

Author; A A Nafis       Looking at this neglected prayer- house (Indonesian= surau) reminds me of “kakek”, an old man who once stayed and took care of it. He was an unemployment. He fed himself from the alms he gathered every Friday. He also got ¼ of goldfish harvest twice a year and once in a year people gave him obligatory alms or we called it Zakat Fitrah. Well as a Garin (that’s what we call it) he wasn’t very popular. He was known as the knife grinder because he was an expert. People usually gave him chili sauce (sambal), cigarettes or money for grinding their knives but he never ask for anything. Moreoften, he got smile and thank you.      I still remember that day, when I visited him. He was sitting at the corner holding his feet and resting his head on his knees. He looked so sad even he didn’t answer my greeting, something he’d never done before. “Whose knife is this kakek?” “Ajo Sidi’s.” “Ajo Sidi’s?” He was silent.  For a moment I thought about Ajo Sidi. He was an unusual st