Donny Tedjo Blog

Sunday, May 22, 2005

True Color Boys I see the "True color so beautiful like a Rainbow" shining from the boy eye on these pictures.
His eye brought the strong trinity of Faith-Hope-Merciful there is no marginal people spirits in those eye, he will be the one who will be survived to be a real Man with the heart of a Lions.

Yups it was also the Irony with the people who lives in Bantar Gebang who live there from collecting rubbish from last deponie garbage of Metropolis City of Jakarta.

The Boys collected anything that recyclable, mostly plastics , metals and paper/cartoon, they sell it in kg to the "pengepul" collectors.
The plastics will be bring to be pellets which will sell to the plastic factories, but mostly of these pellets only made used for plastics ropes or plastics bags colored black.
In Indonesia you could found black plastics bag everywhere in the wet-markets scene, ironically the kind of cheap plastic bag are not free from harmfully materials.

Let them do whatever they do, and let them pass their lives as it is just like water to flow away and find the other flow and hope they could come together in the big rivers and lets God bring these river to be strong like the Floods whose cleaning up everything they have passing by.

Wish You have the Struggle Spirits

Thought is subversive and revolutionary, destructive and terrible,
thought is merciless to privilege, established institutions, and comfortable habit.
Thought looks into the pit of hell and is not afraid.
Thought is great and swift and free, the light of the world, and the chief glory of man.
[Betrand Russell]

The Boxer
Simon And Garfunkel

I am just a poor boy
Though my story's seldom told
I have squandered my resistance
For a pocketful of mumbles,
Such are promises
All lies and jest
Still, a man hears what he wants to hear
And disregards the rest

When I left my home
And my family,
I was no more than a boy
In the Company of strangers
In the quiet of the railways station
Running scared
Laying low
Seeking out the poorer quarters
Where the ragged people go,
Looking for the places
Only they would know


Asking only workman's wages
I come looking for a job,
But I get no offers,
Just a come-on from the whores
On Seventh Avenue
I do declare,
There were times when I was so lonesome
I took some comfort there

Then I'm laying out my winter clothes
And wishing I was gone,
Going home
Where the New York City winters
Aren't bleeding me,
Leading me
Going home.

I the clearing stands a boxer,
and a fighter by his trade
And he carriers the reminders
Of every glove that laid him down
And cut him till he cried out
In his anger and his shame
"I am leaving, I am leaving."
But the fighter still remains