rice field and a photo of anonymous

I had a beautiful experience of listerning the stories of people’s lives.  I was emotionally attached to all the stories.  I seemed to have gone through everyone’s life with them togther.  I worried about their problems and felt sad about their the deceseds.

Suddenly I was dominated by a strong guilty feeling.  I felt that I was like a perver who sneakily broke into people’s hearts and greedly stole thier cherished memories.  I cant find any proper respondses to these story tellers.  Any commons seemed wrong and offensive.

The rice fields in Tembei are beautiful and peaceful.  The Javaness houses are hidden in the green tropical plants.  The soft dirt paths join all the houses in the village.  No traffic noises of motobikes, no sound of car horns,  no Betcak’s hassals  is there in Tempei.

I found a black – white photo in a glass door cabinet in my friend’s accommodation house in Tembei.  I wondered what another dramatic story about life hidden in this image.

 

 

 

 

 

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