People live side by side they sleep side by side they share bread and motorcycles and nasi. There is no space which exists by itself without others there to claim a part. You enter this city, you crave the people of this city, it absorbs you, it claims you. yOU don't own yourself, you don't own your skin, which becomes a thing, an attraction, a point of the conversation - kulit putih! cantik sekali! saya mau sy mau sy mau... - and like that we are spent we are not tourists but the spaces to be toured. Eye for an eye. Sharing breath and sweat and smoke and dua-ribu rupiah. Back of an angkot our hearts become one with the pulse of a loud and dirty tune or an Indonesian favourite. The heat cannot be deciphered as that arising from humidity or bodily warmth. People are the centre of gravity. The masses of them tell the story to be so. Our downfall. Our POTENTIAL. Our wishes to reach the highest point exists through people.
This is the crux.