The West Kartajh City Police Department questioned a man named
J. Gen, a young man who calls himself 'Magnifico', who was involved in a riot that occurred in the middle of the city.
The rioting is not mere chaos, it is a mystery beyond nature.
In th...
"Gen, don't you want to play with your friends?" Yanasari asked a seven-year-old child who was sitting on the seat in front of the house. His cheek he placed on the table. His hair was like his father's, brown rather reddish, slightly bumpy.
"No, their games are too boring," he replied, not at all interested in the games that children are playing down the street. They play with a little ball, razzing at each other.
"And what game do you find so compelling?" his mother asked.
Gen lifted his head, hoping that his mother will take him to a game he will call, he said excitedly, "Sky diving.."
His mother's expression was disapproving. "Or deep into the ocean, snorkeling in the ocean bed, I want to see the plants and animals there," he added, letting his mother pout.
"Adventure in space..?"
"Playing soccer with them is interesting too, Gen. you will learn to compete by keeping your respect for each other. Try to join..," courted the Mother.
"Or roaming in the Amazon Jungle or untouched forests of Noes Antara? Must be nice. Come on, Mom.."
Yanasari was confused by her child's request, as if the child had no fear at all. It's always a habit of trying new things, things only kids his age don't think about, things that tend to be extreme and dangerous.
"Later, Gen."
"Really?" he asked happily, his eyes widened. Rarely did his Mother respond to his request.
"When? I hope it's soon.
"When you grow up."
The little boy again placed his head on the table, not in the direction his Mother was sitting. He gives his Mother a chance to talk with his back head.
"Dad..!" Yanasari exclaimed, looking at her husband, Ben Deriawan, who had just come from work. His white sedation car pulled up in the yard. Yanasari beckoned her eyes: 'Look at your son.'
That day the tall man took a half-day leave, with an important personal schedule to attend to. The CEO of one of the major trading companies that started just five years ago was not a tyrant, not a loafer, even in high office.
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(Ben Deriawan)
"Gen, look what Daddy brought for you?" he said, carrying a white plastic bag, with a chicken on a large pan, wearing a small pan hat. Pointed out the thumblike tips of it wing feathers. Smiling.
"Fried chicken..!" the little boy exclaimed, his head looking impatiently. He ran over to the still warm chicken, shoved his hand in and got a small fried chicken thigh.
