I was drinking my grey tea in a bar in Surabaya when a man took a seat in front of me.
He was a friend of mine. He was an old Bedouin. His face was lined with wrinkles, sculpted by hot winds and desert sands. He told me he had a regret. He loved a wonderful woman but he wasn't enough brave to declare it. Time passed by and she flew away. They never met again.
My old friend stood up and he paid my tea.
Alone with my ghosts, I was wondering how to become a better person. My mobile was on the table. A Danielle Sharp's picture on the screen. Exotic scents in my mind. Time to leave. Goodbye strangers.
