an open letter to the wise president

on my own time, in my own world. i miss my mundu which i feel natural inside. hanging myself down with the air flowing. the breeze of my island. with one hand behind my back the other leaning on the wall. looking at the corner of a wall. one wall meeting the other near a door. how clever. and then suddenly i see my car going in front of me. it cannot be. but it had the emblem plates. it cannot be anni at this time, or the majlis guy, because it's a used benz. it's my car. my driver perhaps taking his girlfriend for a ride... or i'm day dreaming... like i always do. i'm the wise president.

-written by his son.