Norman Pasaribu

Even worse than experiencing genuine misfortune, to my mind, was telling someone about it and being considered a liar; for isn’t the denial that a massacre happened even more tragic than the massacre itself?

The people she’d met when she moved to Bekasi called her Bison’s mother, Mama of Bison, “Mama Bison,” submitting to the nationwide norm of calling a mother by her firstborn’s name.

Meanwhile, my brother’s scrawny frame is forever entering the station. He gets farther away but never any smaller, and he never disappears into the station entrance. Is he walking in place? He looks like an old photo, with that collared shirt of faded blue.