I’m sitting on the 16th floor of a hotel in Jakarta. I have a thin slice of the city on the palm of my hand. In each corner or a nook wherever I look I find life and a short story. It’s evening. The city takes few last short breaths…
The thick air with distinct flavours of petrol is filling my lungs. The virgin sidewalks of an old city rarely used by a human being are accompanying the streets. Walking them is like rapid parkour training for newbies. The adjacent concrete streets are filled with a constant influx of roaring…