He always thought he got the time. In the morning he woke up exactly at five, went jogging for thirty minutes, took shower and ready for breakfast at six thirty. He always thought he was imitating the sun for keeping the time. He thought he got the time so he kept it, tight, afraid of losing it. Dropped the children at school, became the first person to be present in the office, worked, lunch, worked, left.
Everything was in place and on time until she came. She started by taking his breath away and a couple seconds after office hours. Slowly she stole more seconds; during break time, before breakfast, at 9 AM when he always had his coffee. Then seconds grew into minutes, minutes into hours. Then things started to fall apart. She wanted more and more of his time.
He started to forget to pick up his children. He went jogging longer. He stayed in the shower too long. Sometimes he cried. He skipped breakfast. He no longer became the first person to be present in the office. Sometimes he just skipped everything. He no longer got the time. He gave it all to her. Maybe the time was never his and he was never imitating the sun. Maybe he was only a part that refracted.
And in a year he gave up his thought. He gave up everything as the sun set and stopped being refracted. He was no longer there.
This is a collaboration between me and a best friend, one of my favorite emerging photographers, Lukman Hakim. Hakim asked me to write something based on his photo for Ruang.
This piece was originally published on Ruang Edisi 11 together with another collaboration between Hakim and Theoresia Rumthe (in Bahasa Indonesia). Please check it out here.