Ani figures perhaps it’s time for Elias to be more unbound.

The man is standing on top of a speaker, cape fluttering in the caress of springtime wind. His blouse, an indigo Victorian Gothic model, is of the same color with his dearly beloved bass guitar. Ani found the blouse inadvertently. When she prodded Elias, didn’t lu want something like this, without thinking twice Elias grabbed it and kept thanking Ani. That kind of model he had never found in Indonesia. Lately he almost gave up, but turned out the small shop they randomly visited on Osaka had one.

“I did actually found one,” he admitted on the backstage. His thumb and forefinger kept playing the ruffle collar, rubbing it back and forth. “But, well, I mean I don’t know. Felt like I just shouldn’t waste money back then.”

A tender smile blooms on Ani’s face. Vague and tiny. Elias is playing his bass more sprightly today. Her voice comes out louder, galloping in the air steadily. Today Mata Badai echoes more steady than the vaporous studio recording.

During her guitar-no-vocal part, Elias comes over to her side of the stage. They bend forward and almost let their neckboards touch. Grins on their faces. Eyes squinted. Rollicking.

The fans roar.

Then their shoulders crash one past another and Ani and Elias giggle quietly, keep on playing. Resesi has to bond over shopping more.

Saturday, 31 December 2022 — 4:49.