Eseinosa
Tulisan ini adalah sebuah tanggapan atas artikel soal bagaimana wartawan merepresentasikan demonstrasi buruh di link ini.
Aktifisme Modern dan Perlawanan Media ala Little Brothers: Menanggapi Representasi Demo Buruh di Media
Living is Easy with Eyes Closed…
I want everybody to see what I can’t see.
The faith and the belief that everybody have feelings. Including you people.
You people are seen as you want them to see you: cheap, marginalized, exploited, evil, poor.
But I refuse to believe thay because you people survived. As people. Not as animal.
You have love and loved. You have happiness and sadness, in between them you have good and evil. In between good and evil you have calculation and logical reasons of your own.
No matter how error and full of fallacy from common logic, no matter how illogical, it is your own reason.
And if one care to see the bigger context one will understand them. One will know thay if one put themselves in your shoes, one will be you and nothing else. Everybody’s not free. Everybody bound to existence.
I can’t see that right know. My eyes are common eyes like yours or theirs. But I believe its there: the story of being human. I want to see that. And share that. We will meet again. And we will prove to them, that they are us.
Like you are me.
Tiga Citra Iwan Tjitra
Saya mau berbagi sedikit obituari tentang salah satu orang yang paling saya kagumi di dunia, Dr. Iwan Tjitradjaja: antropolog, mentor, pengajar dan inspirator hidup saya.
The Dance Room (part II)
For part I, read here.
Black world, grey in between, white sun. The light gives shades through the windowpanes, the bars shadows moving as the sun getting higher, like traces of forest the city had once been. It is the day of the sun indeed. Kids rise and shine with their parents or nanny watching them play in the park or swimming in the pool of the apartment. Most people are still asleep after a long saturday night: partying, hanging around with friends and/or lover, or simply weeping for a dead future husband, fetishizing the smell on his shirt.
Esei Nosa 
