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Where the lunar sovereign decants her inexhaustible adoration and mirth: ๐‘ฃฟ (tributes bestowed) by the myriad spirits she encountersโ€”โ€She harvests her ink, inscribing sagas upon the parchment of existence.โ€
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The last time I brought up Indonesia and talked about the issues in roleplayers with my closest ones, some of you got saltyโ€”sending us all the anonymous messages, talking shit to your little circle of friends (I know, donโ€™t be surprised). Acting like I was ruining your little fantasy world. Guess what? Iโ€™m gonna do it all over again. Stay mad. Iโ€™d rather care and speak up than sit pretty in ignorance like most of you here.

Stop being ignorant. This does affect your lifeโ€”yes, even your fangirling, your little hobbies, your carefree laughs. Everything. So open your eyes and go fucking educate yourself about whatโ€™s really happening in this country you live in. Because one day, youโ€™ll regret turning a blind eyeโ€”and by then, itโ€™ll be too late. Too late to fight back, too late to fix anything, and all youโ€™ll have left is the bitter taste of regret knowing you chose silence when your voice actually mattered.
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A little late update from my last day in Parisโ€”that day felt slow, the kind of slow that lingers. I spent the whole morning until the sun slipped into the afternoon just lying in my hotel room, tracing the patterns of light on the ceiling, listening to the quiet hum of the city outside. Nothing on my schedule, just me and my thoughts. But in case youโ€™ve been missing my faceโ€ฆ hereโ€™s a little mirror selfie, snapped lazily from the bed. Do I still look cute in this outfit? Maybe, maybe notโ€”but I felt soft, and thatโ€™s enough. Au revoir, Paris, for now.
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