Malam Kuala Lumpur

The elbows rest gently on the window sill with a cigarette in hand. As i watched out the window. My bedroom window, the door to the world I have learned to hate and love equally at the same time. There are no stars in Kuala Lumpur. The lights from the city is too bright to let the star shine on its own. I puffed a cloud of smoke into the air, hurriedly it moves to the right following the gentle caress of the wind. Running away from the cold still air that will inevitably strangle your warmth and wrestle it to the ground. I look again at the dark sky. No stars. The sky is mixed in black and orange. The lights of the city reflected by the water the clouds have learned to contain. Only the sky on top of KL i thought, would have that color. I moved my attention towards the city itself. The seductress. The nice dresses of lights, the shiny lights of promise for a false hope. It tempts the innocent to succumb to the superficial world of material. It tempts the naive kampung boy into believing in being a star. False promises and false hope. Promises of freedom and riches. Promises of eternity. Promises of momentary happiness.

There are no stars in Kuala Lumpur. The Kuala Lumpur sky would scare you. There are no stars in Kuala Lumpur, only those deceived by the promise of being etched in history as someone who is unique, different. The only land rid of its stars, is a land where stars go to die. Where stars humbly forget their existence and die.

There are no stars in Kuala Lumpur. There are no stars in Kuala Lumpur.

You allow yourself to be lied to for the moment of false happiness. You allow yourself to believe that it will be for eternity. Kuala Lumpurr, where the sinned go to live, and the saints go to die. Where there no stars. Is where stars go to die. A graveyard for stars.

There are no stars in Kuala Lumpur, only artists, vagabonds, story-tellers, singers, puppet masters and puppets. And their story is only about Kuala Lumpur...... and the fact that there are no stars... In Kuala Lumpur.