I am a villager, thirty years of age. The unforgiving sun scorches my skin as beads of perspiration roll down my forehead. My hands are calloused, my muscles experience excruciating pain and discomfort, as my thirst remains unsatiated. Yet, I persist in the completion of my work. I was not coerced into the building of … Continue reading I am.
As I type this post down, I am still in the midst of reorganising my thoughts and attempting to consolidate my learning in the neatest way I know. (albeit a futile attempt). . On Saturday, I grudgingly dragged my feet out of my room to embark on a trip to Yogyakarta with my suitemates and … Continue reading The Batik Of Life