Ten in the morning in Bali feels like six in the evening in my brain.I’m sinking into the villa’s living-room sofa, drowned in Zane’s oversized hoodie. The sleeves swallow my hands all the way to the fingers, and every time I move, the fabric slides with me, soft and slick, smelling far too much like Zane to qualify as neutral clothing.Up front, the glass door is half open. The blue ocean sits quiet beneath the cliff, the sun climbing slow, the breeze slipping in with salt and the faint scent of sambal drifting from the kitchen.I’m doing nothing. Phone in hand, a warm box of siomay on the table. My newest life discovery: steamed fish balls and tofu with thick peanut sauce, sambal, and a squeeze of tiny lime. The perfect child between an arepa and an empanada in some alternate form.I stab a piece with a plastic fork, drag it through the sauce, squeeze lime over it, and pop it into my mouth. Soft, rich, savory, spicy, tangy. My brain waves a white flag.“Fine,” I mumble to the box.
Huling Na-update : 2025-12-15 Magbasa pa