"Senja dalam Epilog"

 "Senja dalam Epilog"

Oleh: Aini Syarifah

Prolog

Betapa jauhnya lilin kecil itu memancarkan berkas cahayanya. Jadi pancarkanlah perbuatan baik didunia yang melelahkan ini.

-William Shakespeare

Orang bilang, kehidupan erat kaitannya dengan takdir. Seperti fajar bersama senja, kutub utara bersama kutub selatan, atau prolog bersama epilog. Mereka adalah satu kesatuan yang tak terpisahkan. Seperti sebuah paket tunggal yang tidak bisa diambil tanpa sebuah angka genap. Jika Tuhan memberikan kita sebuah kehidupan, mengapa kita ditakdirkan untuk berakhir pada sebuah kematian?

*****

-Deva

Hari ini terhitung hari ke 92 bersamanya, bersama sesesok gadis yang biasa kupanggil Alina. Seperti biasa, ia selalu datang ke kamarku saat jarum jam berhenti tepat pada angka tujuh lebih lima belas menit. Angka dimana jadwal pemeriksaan paginya telah berakhir. Maka, kala Dokter mencoba memutar kenop kamar yang berada tepat didepan kamarku, aku akan segera tersenyum. Menanti  sesosok gadis bersama selang infuse yang selalu ia giring kemana-mana.

Kali ini, ia tidak hanya membawa selang infuse. Sebuah buku bersampul putih gading berada tepat ditangan kirinya. Ia tersenyum riang, mengambil posisi tepat diatas ranjanganku, membantuku duduk senyaman mungkin, lalu membuka buku dan mulai membacanya.

“Ketakutan tumbuh dari hal-hal yang kita pikirkan, lalu tinggal dalam pikiran kita---”

Kening gadis itu mengeryit, ia berhenti membaca sederetan kalimat Barbara Garrison yang bahkan belum selesai ---menurutku, karena ia membaca dengan menggantung--- dan beralih menatapku. Mengirimkan signal ‘apa maksudnya’ lewat kedua bola mata sayunya. Aku terkekeh, mencubit pipinya yang kini terlihat semakin tirus, gemas.

“Apakah kau pernah merasa ketakutan?”

Intonasinya melemah, nyaris tak terdengar. Ia menutup perlahan buku itu dan beralih menatapku. Aku tersenyum simpul membalasnya, lalu ikut larut dalam diam. Aku tahu, ia sedang ketakutan. Tatapan itu, aku mengenalnya. Tatapan yang sama seperti tiga bulan yang lalu, masa dimana sebuah kesimpulan tentang Metastase Poorly Differenteated Adeno Carcinoma pertama kali mem-vonisnya.

“Tidak.”

Tak ada reaksi, bibir mungilnya terkunci.

“Termasuk mati?”

Aku terkekeh, lalu mengangguk.

 “Kenapa?”

“Karena aku tidak pernah memikirkannya, tidak pernah mengizinkan pemikiran seperti itu untuk tinggal didalam benakku.”

Pipinya mengembung, ia mendengus kesal, “Aku serius.”

“Aku juga”

“Kau mengutip kalimat Barbara Garrison, tak ada bedanya. Aku ingin penjelasan yang lebih.” Gerutunya bertubi-tubi, aku kembali terkekeh.

 “Kau pernah bermain monopoli?”

“Aku bertanya tentang kematian bukan permainan.” Ia semakin kesal, tidak sabar.

“Jawab saja.”

Ia terdiam sesaat, mencoba menerawang puing-puing memorinya, “Pernah,” ia beralih lagi menatapku, “Memangnya kenapa?”

 “Kau tahu alur permainannya?”

Ia mengangguk.

“Tau aturan yang harus dilakukan saat terhenti digaris finish?”

Ia kembali mengeryit. Ingin sekali berontak, tapi urung. Mencoba mengikuti alur penjelasanku, “Permainannya selesai.”

“Nah, kau tau, bukan?”

Ia mengeryit, “Lantas?”

“Bagaimana caranya untuk tiba pada garis finish?” Ia semakin mengeryit, geram. Aku tersenyum, “Jawab saja”

“Mengocok dadu, lalu saat dadu tersebut memunculkan sebuah titik yang menyatakan jumlah angka, kita melaju mengikuti perintahnya. Terhenti tepat disaat hitungan angka dadu habis. Lalu diam menunggu giliran bermain, mengocok lagi, begitu seterusnya hingga terhenti pada garis finish.”

 “Apakah untuk sampai pada garis finish hanya membutuhkan sebuah jumlah angka dadu yang keluar dan tepat terhenti pada garis finish? Bagaimana jika garis finish itu terlewat? Bukankah tidak semua jumlah angka yang muncul bisa tepat terhenti pada garis finish?”

“Tidak, bisa saja kau mendapat kartu Kesempatan yang berisi perintah untuk maju sampai garis finish. Atau mungkin, kau mendapat kartu Dana Umum yang berisi perintah mundur beberapa petak yang bertepatan pada garis finish. Siapa yang tau?”

“Lantas, apakah setiap pemain tiba pada garis finish secara bersamaan?”

Ia kembali mengeryit, tapi urung berontak, “Entahlah. Tergantung dadunya, siapa yang tau jumlah angka yang muncul pada saat permainan?”

“Okay, Binggo! Pemahanamu baik sekali, Alina.”

Aku mengusap kepalanya sedangkan ia mendengus kesal, geram.

“Berhentilah bertele-tele. Aku bukan filsafat, Deva. Bisakah kau mengartikannya dalam makna denotasi?”

Aku terkekeh, gemas. Kucubit pipi tirusnya, “Pernahkah kau berfikir tentang kehidupan?”

“Okay, stop. Aku pergi.” Ia mencoba beranjak, aku tersenyum simpul.

“Jika kehidupan adalah sebuah monopoli, maka tuhan adalah sang dadu, sedangkan angka yang muncul adalah takdir. Ketika kita melemparnya, kita menemukan sebuah clue. Melangkah atas alurnya. Dan boom! Dunia fantasi sedang dimulai. Berawal dari sebuah garis start, yang akan terhenti lesu pada kolom pajak, tersenyum sumringah pada sesi bonus gaji, mendengus kesal pada pusaran denda, lalu tertawa girang diatas arena bebas parkir dan kemudian kembali menjerit pada sel tahanan. Begitu seterusnya hingga berakhir pada garis finish. Jika start adalah prolog kehidupan, maka garis finish adalah babak kematian. Babak dimana takdir telah tercipta sebagai kepastian dari sebuah epilog. Jika penyakit adalah salah satu agenda dalam rangkaian daftar takdir, belum dapat dipastikan list selanjutnya adalah kematian. Seperti yang sudah kau katakan tadi, siapa yang tahu angka berapa yang muncul dibalik sebuah kuasa dadu? Semua mahluk Tuhan pada akhirnya akan menemui sebuah epilog, Alina. Tanpa kecuali. Hanya saja, setiap mahluk memiliki masa tersendiri menuju garis finishnya. Semua hanya butuh waktu. Apapun jembatan menuju epilog, itulah angka yang telah ditentukan oleh sang dadu. Sama seperti yang kau katakana tadi, bukan? Bahwa bisa saja kau mendapat kartu Kesempatan yang berisi perintah untuk maju sampai garis finish. Atau mungkin, kau mendapat kartu Dana Umum yang berisi perintah mundur beberapa petak yang bertepatan pada garis finish. Tidak ada yang perlu kau takutkan, Alina. Semua ada masanya.“

Seketika ia berbalik, duduk diatas ranjang, mendekapku. Dapat kurasakan bahunya tergoncang, semakin lama semakin hebat. Diiringi dengan isakannya yang kian lama kian kencang. Aku mencoba membalas dekapnya, membelai rambutnya yang semakin lama semakin menipis. Membebaskannya sesaat untuk berbaur dengan rasa takut, menyisihkan sedikit ruang untuk melepas segala bebannya. Perlahan, bisa kurasakan guncangannya mereda, kurengkuh pelan wajah sendunya dengan kedua tanganku. Mengusap bulir-bulir air matanya yang masih tersisa. Membiaskan sebuah senyuman dimatanya, dan kembali mendekapnya,

“Jangan takut lagi, semuanya akan baik-baik saja“

*****

-Alina

Hari ini tepat hari ke 100 aku mengidap Colorectal Cancer. Penyakit yang mampu membuatku mual setengah mati karena kemoterapi, sakit tiada tara karena berbagai macam tusukan suntikan, perih tak terhingga karena kanker yang terus menjalar. Sampai detik ini, tidak ada yang berbeda, semua sama. Rasa yang berkutat ini, kian lama kian terasa hambar karena siklusnya begitu semu. Semua rutinitas yang kulakukan disini begitu memuakkan, bosan. Aku selalu ingin lari, kemanapun. Asalkan jangan disini. Tapi kalau difikir-fikir, benar juga kata Deva, percuma. Bahkan, lebih cenderung ke rugi. Terpaksa aku mendengus kesal, mengurungkan niat.

Deva. Aku mengenalnya sekitar tiga bulan yang lalu, karena penyakit yang sama, dokter yang sama, dan rumah sakit yang sama. Bedanya, dia laki-laki, satu tahun lebih tua dariku, dan tiga stadium lebih tinggi diatasku. Aku beralih menatap jam dinding yang tertera tepat diseberang ranjangku, jam tujuh tepat. Tapi tidak juga ada tanda-tanda kedatangan Dokter Tjahyo ---Dokter yang menanganiku dan Deva---, maka kuputuskan untuk beranjak saja. Aku tidak suka menunggu.

Langkahku terhenti tepat diambang pintu. Tiba-tiba saja aku seperti mati rasa, kaku. Bola mataku enggan mengempis, sementara bibirku enggan terkatub. Aku seperti kehabisan oksigen, ingin bernafas tapi tak mampu, ingin menghela tapi tak mau. Aku nyeri, kelu, bingung dan ah entahlah, bahkan aku tidak mampu lagi menjelaskan secara detail reaksi seperti apa yang sedang bergumul didalam otakku. Aroma cologne maskulin itu berhembus, diiringi dengan suara roda ranjang yang berlalu. Kutemui sosok itu tertutup selimut, hilang digantikan sang fajar yang mulai menyingsing. Aku bersimpuh lemas menyadarinya.

            Tepat ditengah senja, sosok laki-laki itu terlelap ditengah tumpukan bunga Daisy. Semalam, keadaannya memburuk. Kanker itu sudah benar-benar mematikan fungsi organ pencernaannya. Menyatukan seluruh jenis usunya, membuatnya mengering, dan meninggalkan seberkas warna biru disekujur sisinya. Aku tidak menyangka, akan secepat ini epilognya tiba. Ia terlihat baik-baik saja saat semalam aku bertandang ke kamarnya. Dia masih terlihat sama saja, ---terlepas dari tubuhnya yang semakin kurus, matanya yang semakin sayu, dan parasnya yang semakin pasi---. Masih terlukis jelas didalam memoriku, senyum terakhirnya yang terlihat tak ada beda ---senyum lebar, tulus, dan menenangkan---. Bersama senja di pertengahan November, pintu epilognya terkatub. Kini, satu pemain telah tiba digaris finish. Menyambut sebuah epilog untuk mengakhiri permainnya.

*****

30 hari yang lalu…

“Apakah kau percaya pada keajaiban?”

Laki-laki itu mengangguk, “Pernah dengar lagu ‘When You Believe’ Whitney Houston feat Mariah Carey?”

Sang gadis menggeleng, “Aku tidak begitu suka mendengarkan musik.” Kilahnya.

Laki-laki itu mengangguk kecil, “Kenapa?”

“Tidak tau, hanya tidak suka.”

“Sayang sekali, lagunya bagus”

*****

Dua hari yang lalu..

“Pernah berfikir mengapa Tuhan menciptakan sebuah kehidupan jika pada akhirnya akan berakhir pada kematian?”

Laki-laki itu mencoba menutup buku tebalnya, kemudian menyodorkannya pada gadis itu.

“Jika kutitipkan buku ini padamu, apakah kau akan marah jika aku mengambilnya besok?”

Gadis berbibir mungil itu mengeryit, “Kenapa harus marah?”

Laki-laki itu terkekeh, “Kau masih saja menggemaskan,” ditariknya hidung mancung gadis itu, sang gadis mengeryit.

“Sudahlah, jangan bertele-tele, Deva.”

Laki-laki itu kembali tersenyum, ia kembali menatap buku tebal yang berada diatas pangkuan gadis itu.

“Hidup ini, hidupmu. Tapi bukan milikmu, Alina. Sama seperti buku ini. Untuk saat ini buku ini bukumu, tapi bukan milikmu. Jika aku ingin mengambilnya besok, kau bisa apa?” Laki-laki itu terdiam sejenak. Lalu beralih menatap gadis yang duduk diam diatas ranjangnya.

“ Sama seperti yang kau ucapkan tadi, ‘kenapa harus marah?’”

*****

Epilog

Senja ke 230 mulai turun, melukis warna dengan jingganya. Bersamaan dengan langkahnya, gerimis ikut bernyanyi. Melantunkan melodi-melodi alam dengan riangnya. Disudut kamar Anggrek bernomor 203, sesosok gadis berdiri tepat didepan jendela, membuat tubuh mungilnya bertempa dengan senja. Senja saat ini, entah sudah terhitung senja keberapa tanpa kehadiran sosok laki-laki itu di dalam arena monopoli. Perlahan, ia mencoba membelai sendiri helai rambutnya yang nyaris menghilang seluruhnya, mendelik dengan seksama raga mungilnya yang kini sudah semakin tak berisi, dan berakhir dengan menatap siluetnya yang remang-remang terbias didasar jendela. Ia letakkan jari-jemarinya disana, mencoba menyentuh siluet semu itu yang bahkan nyais tak terlihat. Ia beralih menatap ranjang, kosong. Hanya tertinggal sebuah buku tebal diatas meja. Ia beralih lagi menatap sebuah MP4 yang tergeletak tak jauh dari buku. Entah sudah berapa lama ia membiarkan benda itu berdiam di laci kamarnya, dan ditengah senja kali ini, ia  mencoba merengkuhnya dan membawanya kemari. Perlahan, dipasangnya headphone pada kedua telinganya. Dengan sedikit keraguan, ditekannya perlahan sebuah tombol ‘play’ yang otomatis memutar playlist sang empunya. Dengan sendirinya, matanya terpejam bersama simfoni yang mulai mengalun.

Many night we prayed

With no proof anyone could hear

In our hearts a hope for song

We barely understood

Now we are not afraid

Although we know there’s much to fear

We were moving mountains long

Before we knew we could

In this time of fear

When prayer so often proves in vain

Hope seems like the summer bird

Too swiftly flown away

Yet now I’m standing here

My hearts so full, I can’t explain

Seeking faith and speaking words

I never thought I’d say

They don’t always happen when you ask

And it’s easy to give in to your fears

But when you’re blinded by your pain

Can’t see the way, get through the rain

A small but still, resilient voice

Says hope is very near

There can be miracles,

When you believe

Though hope is frail

It’s hard to kill

Who knows what miracles

You can achieve

When you believe somehow you will

You will when you believe

---‘When You Believe’ Whitney Houston feat Mariah Carey---

Short Story

Well, two month ago, I've joined a Writing Telling Contest in Java-Bali. And it's my first experience about writing contest especially in English language. It's so difficult for me to make a beautiful word or in Indonesia you can call it "DIKSI". Well, I'm not good enough about grammar. So, when I've got this information, I was negative thinking :D. But, however, I am so exited about "telling contest". Couse it's not my first telling contest. So, finally I decide to join this contest, and I should send a big thanks to God who gave me chance to be the third winner :*

Do you want to read my story?

Well, here we go..... 

Note : sorry for my grammar, so many mistake in this text ^.^v

“Imagination in the Drizzle”

By: Aini Syarifah

I do not understand, why God created morning if after that will change tonight. Why did God create happiness if one day it will turn into sadness. Why did God create a  meeting if next time it will lead to separation. And why did God create a life if it will end in death...

I'm not smart enough to understand a philosophy of life. I think this is too complicated. Too complex, too difficult to be drawn the timeline. Or maybe, I was too far away to choose this question, too far away to thinking this point, too far away to pick a topic like this...

I did not know what pushed me to be able to stand on the point of this thought. That I'm aware, I was raging with my mind. I'm crazy, I'm like a crazy girl. Because of this, because this mind. I fought with it, with my stupid questions. I was tormented by it, and I want to end it. But stupidly, I do not know, what should I do...
*****

Prolog:

Actually, I do not like waiting. Really do not like. For me, waiting is the most boring thing. Why not? While waiting, you just can silent to follow the second, sweeping views without stopping, and if the journey of seconds had begun running too long, you will begin to say a series of words without meaning. The timeline, waiting just make T-I-R-E-D. Right?

Like today, this morning. I do not know how many times I looked at the street from the window of the bus that open in half. But still, the wheels of the bus and have yet to enter the Western of Ring Road. In fact, fifteen minutes again, Mid Term Test in my Senior High School will begin. I did not know anymore, what should be done to eliminate my panic. Until finally, I decided to read my notebook that has been I hugged. I opened it, a clearly written text has printed on the ninth page.

Telling Story Writing Contest 2012
My Life My Inspiration
Deadline 9th of March 2012
Let's do fast!
Spirit J

I smiled a little, then close my notebook slowly . My imagination began to spin. Spinning and continue spinning until finally stopping at one point. The point where my inspiration rooted in my life ...

*****

The sky was still stop in the night. I think the dawn is still reluctant to dawn. It was still asleep. In the corner, I curled my body. I was frightened, my eyes did not want to close. My hands kept freezing while my imagination kept constantly running. I am like addicts who are high, people who run out of oxygen, or fish that lack of water. I began to wrestle with my thought. Trying to negotiate the situation. But nil. A peace was still reluctant to reach.

A few seconds later, I found the answer. I sobbed. But do not know, do not understand, and do not want to understand what the reason. Hahaha. How stupid I am ! Crying in such a way, but I do not know what the reason that made me cry.

No, actually I knew. It's just that I do not pretend to know. Yes, I knew, that everything was different now..

I can feel the drizzle came down clearly in tune. And then turned into raining. I was still curled up, clutching my knees. Millions of questions was filled my head. Continues to grow and rooted in my brain nerves. I do not know, what should I do now. Do I have to keep crying? Should silent? Or follow him to die? I do not know, I really do not know. I was like a compass without needle, the clock without ticking, or pen without ink. I really lost my way. So, what should I do?

I never thought, how could that disease crippling my Papa. Even before I had time to think about the effects of the disease, my lobe of pariental was not able to digest properly what is the meaning of the word of ‘disease’. Something that I always thinking, that my Papa will get well soon. But it was wrong, my Papa was lost. He has given up ..

I do not know what to give a reaction at that time, when my Mama mentioned the word of colorectal cancer. Even before I understood what is colorectal cancer, my implus forced to distribute word of polyp adonema to the receptor. But unfortunately, before the receptor was able to work, my sensory nerves are reluctant to grapple with word of chemotherapy. For me, those words were not only able to damage the function of the nerves of my brain, but they kill brutally my Papa’s pulse. Kill, yes kill. That disease is killer. That disease has made him DEAD !

DEAD ? My Papa has DIED ? No, I don’t think so. He just fell asleep, and soon he will wake up. Yeah, I guess. I should not be here. Where is my Papa? I should have to be looking for him.

My cornea has seen. A figure girl who use a black dress. She walk to me, and smiled sweetly, looking straight towards me. I smiled softly.

"Where is my Papa?" She silent. And then held me. I could feel the warmth of her arms clearly meets all my fragile body. Drizzle are go down ..

"He's gone ..."

The drizzle are now changed into rain. She held me strong. Held me so tightly. I could feel her fingers gently stroking my hair strands. She said quietly,

"I knew, please calm down .. Everything will be okay, I’m with you, believe me"

(In memory 17th of November 2005 at 02.47 am)

*****

Drizzle are back down. Middle of the night, raining was made me wet. I dropped again, hurt, collapsed. More pain this time. Pain of any kind. I'm fragile, unable to stand, unable to think. Actually, what is the meaning of a life?  

A death was greeted me again. Control the color of my life again. That figure, that figure who dressed in black dress with a sweet smile .. She is gone, went with my Papa, gone and will not come back ..

Aedes Aegypte it was malignant disease. It was molt out of my best friend’s platelets. Crippling, and kill her. I'm crazy, now I'm really crazy. Well, how can I be okay? If a person who makes me fine has disappeared. Whom should I trust now? If a person who be able to convince me to believe her has gone. Rainbow in my life has faded. Replaced with black color around the corner. Death. A death has been printed ink on the box of my life. The death has painted two dot side by side, with a silhouette of a 180-degree arc under it. Now, my life is completely different. Everything was different , my rainbow has faded ...

Why? Why should so soon? Why do I have to live it all? Why must they die? Now, what should I do? Return to cry? Continued to cry? Or stop crying? Hahaha, crazy. I was really crazy. That questions were driving me crazy!

(In memory 26th of December 2005 at 7:30 pm)

*****

The brown calendar was slightly colored, there is a small circle around the number 17 in November. I smiled a little, then move on to look a picture that decorated with a man who smiling in the middle of his two best friends. I touched it, last year everything was perfect ...

I realized that half of my life carried away by him. Since his gone, I became a little numb. I do not meet again with a peace in my time. I move on to look another picture. A perfect family was there. My heart is trembling slightly. I realize, that now, my family has completely different. Perfection has completely away. The warmth has completely frozen. Fate has changed everything ..

I tried to move, move into my bedroom. A photograph of a pretty girl with yellow dress immediately greeted me. She smiled pretty, and I responded. Now, half of the rest of my life absorbed by her. And I'm getting numb. They all take over the functions of consciousness, suggesting hard all my thoughts, and manipulate the entire system a total of my motion. Without realizing it, drizzle it back down. All kinds of memory on rotating them back. Spinning and continue spinning in my brain. Trying to poison the nerves consciousness. I returned collapse.

Recording in my mind kept going. Asked me to run in artificiality. I met a memory piece by piece of my past in it. Was illustrated neatly in every scene. I met perfection, all of perfection in my life. Wheel in my family was at the center of a 90 degree angle at that time, and I met each of laughter around it, warmth and even peace. I met a happiness in every eyes of my family. And that memory was kept me smiling. Today I met the other pieces. Pieces that are being stopped at the part when my best friend laugh. She take my hand, take me spinning, dancing and even singing. She is like an energy that distribute a happiness in my veins, and made ​​me fly with her. She made me  smiled again. Wheels continue to spin my record, now it is stagnant at the point that cloudy. I did not met a laugh at there, just a sadness that look. There is no discussion within the meaning of my life. Only the frontal screams that I've met in my mind. I fell down. Memory at an angle of 270 degrees is making me numb. They returned cripple robustness of my wall. I returned collapse.

"Are you okay?" Her call does not mean anything for me. I was silent, letting it consuming my consciousness system. I do not want to care.

"Dear, are you okay?" She asked me. Now, her voice to be a little higher. There is a slight vibration that is contained in her intonation. But still, I do not want to care.

Slowly I could feel her hug me. Closely, so closely. Until I can feel with clearly a great shocks in her body. I remained frozen.

I could feel it clearly, that drizzle back down. Fall with the grains of the bitterness of life, drizzle was falling continuously.

For the first time, I could feel clearly the fragility of my Mama. She was crying, crying so hard. She hugged me, tried to tear my fragility walls. It made me destroyed.

"Say something, say something whatever it is. Do not to be like this .. " She said softly. I'm getting crushed by it​​, but  I still reluctant to move. I do not want to care.

"Do you want to talk to Mama, dear?" She tried to look into my eyes, and I did not wave back.

"Do you know?" She held me back. Her voice are quivering. "Mom in pain .."
My lips are still stagnant. There is no reaction that I want to show.

"I'm sorry, sorry I made ​​you like this. Sorry for has changed all your happiness, has forced you to enter the circle of life like this. "

"I'm fine." This time I tried to speak, and that too has turned into a drizzle of rain. She sobbed, and I was silent.

She still held me, held me so tightly. And I made ​​her shortness. She kept her voice steady waves, tried to get me to explore her heart box. She kept steady fire energy in my veins, burn it, then turn it off. For the first time, she allowed me to share her war in her heart. I'm getting torn, it made me weak. I realized, that she would hurt me. I met prisoners hole in her body, so wide open, with no fewer bidders.  I realized, that there is one thing which I have forgotten over the years. There's someone who waiting for me. Waiting to return, to neutralize the hole of her prisoners. And stupidly, I only realized after the prisoners had been creeping up the pores of her veins. No, no. I should to stop it.

Slowly I tried to hug her. Trying to warm her walls who frozen. I smiled a little, in the middle of drizzle I met a sounds drifted softly from my lips.

"Am I too late to get up now?"

(In Memory, one day in 2006)

*****

Epilogue:

Wheels the bus stopped in front of the building that painted brown. I smiled a little and closed my life box that I have touched for a long time. I tried to down with hugged my notebook. I opened the pages slowly. And tried to stop on the ninth page. I returned to smile, then look up the sky. I release, that there is something wrong in my past, that death does not destroy my function of consciousness, but put growing function of my imagination