The traces you left; In front of my door, on the couch, in the living room, on your clothes, in my head, echoing & haunting. But the traces were never actually there. It's only in my head, echoing & haunting. I'm left with nothing except these papers, there's number in it. "Call these numbers if you miss me" I tried, no one answered. No one heard me. Until one day I realized, people never left. I made them left. -an * puisi terinspirasi dari kisah seorang Nenek dekat kantor yang selalu duduk di teras rumahnya & meminta setiap orang yang lewat untuk menelfon saudaranya