In the end of The Rising Sun

Once, a Sun goes up from the sea with power of thousands giants. As it goes up, people in down-world held a party, a very big party; they blessed by the Sun’s shining-light. There’s nothing to worried about, every single person has their own – what so-called – identity. The identity that gives them soul to alive, as a group, a clan, a nation, and also, any other a.

In the middle of the day, people get starving. They start to eat. Everything. When there’s nothing left they eat their own head. Many heads then get crazy. People start to blame one-another for the lost of understanding and the lost of will. The undelayed riot happens. Wars have bombs to kill. Killing the identities.

 “We don’t have enough time in our big party to plant some rice, thus when we’re get starving, we hare nothing to eat but our heads”, the wisest man of them murmuring, then suicide.

That is evening when The Rising Sun begin to end. Leaving people in thousands giant’s scream, crumbling, and crawling. There is no tomorrow.

Bandung, August '02