Through my writing I found myself again after a long time of being lost. I learned who I was in the past, who I was then, and who I wanted to be in the future. There I finally found freedom in writing. I flew in the sky with my pencil and notebook. (Ngo, 1994)
There is a reason why the language we inherit at birth is called our mother tongue. It is our mother, forgiving, embracing, naming the world and all its emotions” (Mukherjee, p.11).
My own reflection:
It’s Indonesian that gives me the most sheltered sanctuary when the world exhausts me and exercises her power on me. To my inner Indonesian, I remain constant.