Body Ink Studio itu yang tertulis di papan nama sebuah studio sekaligus toko pakaian yang berada di daerah bohemian dengan banyak cafe, gallery dan distro bertebaran. Bobo neighborhood seorang kawan pernah berujar. "Apa tuh bobo?" pernah aku tanya dia. "bohemian borju" jawabnya sambil terkekeh. Aku tertawa dan membayangkan mereka yang memilih jalur gaya hidup dan penampilan bohemian lengkap dengan segala vintage atributnya meskipun banyak dari mereka berasal dari latar belakang ekonomi dan status sosial yang mapan. De la vie de boheme, bukankah seharusnya merupakan kehidupan dengan kebebasan berseni dan hanya mengejar kesempurnaan dalam sebuah musik, warna atau kata-kata dan bukan mengejar kesempurnaan materi? aku mencoba menganalisa arti kata bohemia. Les bohemes bourgoiesie, sebuah paradoks yang kupikir lucu.

Aku melambaikan tangan ke pemilik sekaligus seniman tattoo yang baru saja tiba untuk membuka studionya itu. Mukanya yang sudah penuh dengan segala macam bentuk dan ukuran tindikan logam mulai dari perak sampai titanium itu tersenyum dan membuat seakan semua logam yang menempel di wajahnya ikut bergerak. Dia melambaikan tangannya yang terbungkus penuh gambar tattoo kearahku. Aku teruskan langkah pagi itu menuju Town House bergaya Mediterranean di samping tempat tattoo itu. Kubuka pintu gerbang besi berwarna hijau untuk memasuki halaman dalam yang membentuk cul-de-sac seperti La Piazza kecil dengan tanaman rambat yang memenuhi tembok luar sampai ke lantai dua gedung............................................

............ Kutekan bel pintu sambil merasakan kehangatan caffe latte, cream cheese dan bagel sekaligus semerbak aroma Lily segar lewat kantong kertas coklat yang kupegang. Tak lama pintu apartemen terbuka dan senyum khasnya yang ramah muncul di depanku.

“Pagi”, sapanya. “Lho, kok tumben nganter sendiri? si Chang kemana?” lanjutnya sambil memberi tanda menyuruhku masuk.

”........Chang sakit ngga bisa masuk hari ini”, aku menjelaskan keberadaan salah satu pegawaiku yang biasa mengantar pesanan delivery.

“Waa, sori ya musti nganter sendiri”, katanya..........

Kuambil bunga Lily dari kantong kertas dan sambil menyambar botol Absolut Vodka kosong yang terletak di atas meja itu aku berjalan menuju dapurnya untuk mengisi botol yang telah berganti fungsi menjadi vas bunga khusus untuk pesanan Lily-nya itu dengan air.keran. Sepintas tatapanku terhenti pada seuntai rosario mutiara hitam yang tergantung di lampu meja kerjanya................ ....................

"Terima kasih ya”, katanya lagi sambil mengambil uang kembalian.

."........ you have a good day, ok? mampir-mampir dong”, jawabku sambil berjalan keluar pintu.

“Sip, you too Dan. Bye bye”, katanya sambil menutup pintu.

............................Aku menyeberang jalan dan mengambil arah yang berlawanan dari tokoku untuk mengunjungi bengkel sepeda motor langgananku. Hari masih terlalu pagi dan belum semua toko dan restoran di jalan itu yang buka. Melewati Shonagon, sebuah fusion sushi restoran aku melihat poster besar bergambar seni Jepang Ukiyo-e dari pelukis Kiyonaga berjudul Girl under a Willow menempel di jendela kaca restoran yang masih tutup itu....................

.............................Aku melihat bayangan diriku di jendela kaca restoran. Memakai kaos abu-abu muda bertuliskan salah satu slogan Adidas ”impossible is nothing”, celana korduroy belel dengan warna yang mirip dan sepatu Timberland coklat lusuh. Sebuah gambaran yang jauh dari sosok eksekutif dengan setelan jas gelap Armani yang menutupi kontras warna hem putih dan dasi sutera dengan warna yang seakan ingin beradu gelap dengan setelan jas....................

Kulihat rekleksi diriku dikaca lagi, kali ini seperti layar filem dengan adegan yang berlompat – lompat antara lantai bursa yang hiruk pikuk oleh suara tawar menawar saham bergantian dengan bayangan lapisan kimono, muka berbedak putih tebal seorang Geisha diiringi suara suling Shakuhachi. Sebuah rantai fiksi imaginasi yang seakan pernah menjadi rangkaian sebuah perjalanan panjang yang merupakan bagian dari seni mencari kebahagian. Aku melanjutkan langkahku dan sayup-sayup bunyi suling Shakuhachi berganti menjadi raungan khas knalpot motor Harley Davidson bersamaan dengan bertambah dekatnya jarak menuju bengkel tujuanku........................

antara cuplikan, kompilasi, terusan dari Mutiara Hitam, Paradoks Dalam Botol dan Girl Under A Willow, an unfinished tale................
Image reference: The Black Pearl Inc (Jewelry Catalogue)

SCENE 1
(A view from a window. Wet roof in a rainy afternoon. Drops of water falling from the edge of the roof into a man-made pond below. Koi fishes swim beneath the surface. The ivy covered wall with its spreaded vines and full leaves are wet and looks so green and clean. The smell of wet grass flowing through the open window. The sounds of thunder in a distant from time to time.)

Turn out the light
A lover's finger tips
Warm and passionate
A clamped oyster shell
Wet and slippery

The rain outside
And a movie classic
A breeze of wind
The smell of wet earth
Mixed with lavender scent

SCENE 2
(Late Morning. Mug of hot coffee on the back terrace. A breeze of wind blows at a newly wet hair fresh from the shower. Scripts from a half done novel on the table, suspended by a several fresh water oyster shells. The sound of Michael Frank from a vinyl being played )

Loosely worn kimono
A peek of soft belly
Its soft fabric
Shaping the curves
And the rounded edges
Scent of lavender
On the smooth skin

SCENE 3
(Half dark air - conditioned room. The rustle of white sheet as cold bare skin seeking comfort and warm underneath. The sound of rain outside. The smell of wet earth flowing through an open bedroom window. A glimpse of Marlon Brando face in an opened cover of Last Tango in Paris DVD.)

Warm breath on a finger tip
The sound of pillows being stacked
The rain outside
Brings the smell of wetness
Lowering guarded feelings
Letting out passionate longing
For touches of pleasures
Just like the rain
Brings wet but warm feelings
On the pond outside
A fish swims underneath the surface
Its skin wet and slippery
Touching the shapes
Tickling the curves
Tingling rounded edges
Exploring inner parts
And like an oyster shell pried open
The round beautiful pearl exposed
Its surface wet and slippery
It is felt and tasted
The taste lingered
On lips and tongue
The smell mixed with lavender scent
The flesh of a loving lover
Reaching final destination
In the center of her universe

Inspired by book 36 Views: A Play, by Naomi Iizuka. Image taken from the book cover design.

The blinding morning sun shot through the windshield while a radio announcer's voice filled the car's interior chattering a morning program with her on - air guest on the latest lifestyle trend on mind and spirit. It was a typical morning program rundown of traffic report and weather forecast for the day. I drove the car for the last twenty minutes in the light morning rush hour. Something about morning radio program made people tuned in the minute they got into their cars. It was as if people were afraid to miss what went on in the rest of the world since they went to sleep the night before. Actually all you heard about is the usual heavy traffic everywhere and the same weather report as the day before due to the limited option of a two season country which was either hot or humid or rain with occasional report on sporadic flood.

It was late November and it has been raining almost daily. Surprisingly the sun was out that morning creating a shiny face on the still wet road from last night's rain. Funny how traffic seemed slower on wet road as if illustrating people walking on a slippery surface. My fingers kept pushing on the memory buttons switching stations without really looking for anything particular on the radio. As I entered the narrow streets of a trendy neighborhood light drizzle started to hit the windshield. The sun has taken shelter behind the now grey cloud. I stared ahead navigating the car through alley like streets with chic galleries and cafes lined up on both sides. I noticed other drivers started to have their wipers working as I stared ahead and watched droplets of water on the windshield.

My thought raced forward to what were waiting for me at work. The millions things that needed to be done on the newly acquired account and several other brand communication campaigns that needed to be strategize. Not to mention to looked after one or two still pending creative and technical executions on some new web development that needed to be presented to clients. Peculiar as it was certain trades tended to group together forming an illusion of images and envious observations to those outside the trade. Superficial as it may seem but it never failed to attract certain stereotypes. The neighborhood I was driving through was a good example. I was almost sure that whoever it was that developed the area didn't really plan it to turn out the way it was. In the last few years it has developed into a pleasant area surrounded with a bohemian flavor. Art galleries and cafes mixed together with modest small proprietor shops and residential for the upper-classes. As if it was not enough to commercialize the area, high - end retail shops soon followed accompanied by corporate of the creative trade such as ad agencies, creative boutiques, photography studios and production houses. "People watching" which was used to be the favorite past time belonging only to the residents has now became a commodity for sale especially on the week - ends. Not long after that a new campus for one of the top university relocated its schools of Architecture and Art & Design only a stone throw away putting one final touch to what every trendy neighborhood should have, a laid back but intellectual academic atmosphere.

Another two blocks and a few more turns will took me to my office. I felt lucky that driving to work no longer include enduring the stressful busy freeways and major roads some commuters had to take to get to the central business district down town. My thoughts were re-winded to the times when I was one of those commuters several years back. Being just another one in a million suit and tie corporate man trying to climb the corporate ladder. In my case being in the fast pace investment banking world with cuff links and suspender dress code. I supposed I should feel grateful then that I was miles away from the busy freeways and the suit and tie and for being in the trade that had a free spirit ed atmosphere. It was almost three years since I have made partner in a small marketing communication agency. Being one of the first to go into digital marketing has given the agency the edge it needed when corporations finally considering shifting into new media for their communication. Baiting for the big fish clients in the last few years has finally paid off and has given the agency a nice chunk of retainer fees.

My searched for the unknown finally stopped when Carly Simon's "Itsy Bitsy Spider" came over the car speakers. In another ten minutes or so I would arrived in my destination. It could have been the desire to prolong the journey that all of a sudden have made me decide to walked the rest of the distance and started eyeing for empty parking spaces on the street. Being in the retail block with business that mostly opened at ten o'clock I easily found a few empty spaces to park my car. I parked the car in front of a florist that sells imported flowers. While getting out of the car I caught a glimpse of the shop girl carrying imported tulips from Holland and putting them on a display bucket. That reminded me that I should send some flowers to one of my staff who has just given birth the day before. I quickly went inside and ordered some sunflowers to be delivered to the hospital. Pushing the glass door on my way out of the florist I realized that the rain has stopped. Carrying my worn out leather back pack over my shoulder I started walking.

As I walked my mind started to wander again to those years of soul searching or should I said searching for something that was right for my soul. The struggled between choosing a conventional path and the attraction for unconventionalities were like the pain of my existence that I had to go through while growing up. I was still not sure whether it was just naive ignorance or simply the lack of confidence to go against conventionality that had led me later on to conform to the larger sense of belonging. Surely I thought it was not because of insecurity as I have always found certain comfort with my own insecurities. Somehow recognizing my own fears has helped me to stay focus to my true being. It was like a secret intimacy that existed deep within me and was my creation of the art of happiness and my covert sanctuary whenever I was in doubt with my surrounding. A large Ukiyo-e portraying Kiyonaga's art print of Girl Under a Willow on the wall of a fusion Sushi place distracted my thought. This briefly took me away from what the Buddhist called the "sorrowful world" to its ironic wordplay, "the floating world of a 17^th centuries Japan - Edo period with its complicated philosophies and sense of Samurai chivalry¹. I smiled and thought of my own complexity as comparison. Still staring at the glass covered poster I saw the reflection of me, a man in faded grey corduroy Levi's wearing a wind breaker over a t - shirt and a Timberland shoes. A far cry indeed from the drawing of a man in dark colored chalked Armani suit and cuff linked white shirt with silk tie. I never did find the passion for suspenders but I did eventually get tiresome of cufflinks and everything else that came with it. It was never me and neither the teakwood paneled cigar smoked board room nor the fluctuations of the market index had ever given me any significant gratification. The agony of waking up one day and finding me doing something for the sake of doing it and for self security turned out to be more frightening than the thought of losing that security. Suddenly, the art of happiness is merely now just a fiction of my imagination. Light drizzle has started again and pulling the hood of the wind breaker over my head I continued my steps on the wet cobble stone pavement in the direction toward my building.

While abstraction had no real cost, reality did bite. Stepping out of a comfort zone turned out to be more than just carrying the burden of economic consequences but also the requirement to establish a new self - identity which closely resembled the nightmare of an introvert teenager at lost in the jungle of a new high - school. That same lost feeling was a real challenge especially in the planet of creative communication filled with over blown egos that were not only could create legendary campaigns but frequently also disastrous creative landmines. The supposedly combination of art and science between business strategy and creative solution could and often easily mistaken to be the processed to create an award winning fine art project instead. It was a lethal occupational hazard as well as a chaotic war zone. Egos were easily bruised or took a nose dive imitating a kamikaze pilot plunging his plane over the Pacific Ocean into an allied aircraft carrier during World War II. I sometimes marveled how all these could create envious observations to those outside the circle.

I stopped at a zebra cross waiting for the green light and looked at the corner store watching a visual merchandiser worked on a shoe display for Manolo Blahnik new arrivals. He artistically placed a pair of red patent leather sandal against a black steel stand highlighting the gold metal trim and heel of the sandal. The positioning was in such a way that the passionate red vintage style sandal with its beautiful curve reminded me of a sensual Flamenco dancer. The light switched to green and as I crossed the street I thought about how an insightful positioning combined with memorable visuals could really did the job. Those shoes displays certainly have attracted countless loyal long legged beauties to walked into the store and spent money on shoes that at least equal to two months salary of a blue collar worker. Nevertheless, I could have imagined that there were criticisms from those who effortlessly dismissed this to be just another trivial vanity or worse, a shallow urban chic nonsense.

Approaching my office I realized that the pyramidal needs which set priorities and petty importance sometime worked against each other which made people see things from different frame of mind. A product of a free spirited surroundings often combined with playful childlike thought might seemed mediocre to the eye of a practical rigid mind who puts value on properness. Prestigious achievements between the two poles then could only be understood by how the stars worked the different horoscopes belonging to these souls.

Pushing the door to my building I winked at my receptionist with the pale faced Gothic make up as she mumbled a soft husky good morning to me. I stopped by the pantry to make my second cup of coffee for the day. On the walked up to the duplex section of the office I was greeted with sounds of Jimmy Durante's "As Time Goes By" competing with Radio Head's "Hail to the Thief" coming from MP3s blasted from G5 Mac computers. I smiled at this assemble of the old and new working together creating strange but harmonious unity. Sipping my coffee at my desk I looked through my glass walled room and watched others did their morning routine. As I turned to the window I watched the rain and saw how the window glass stopped the rain from crashing in and created tiny rivers flowing from gravity.

I liked what I did there and I loved the playful and free spirited environment represented that morning by Durante and Radio Head. Strange as it was that probably to another observer but for me it was a representation of "properness" and "free spirit" working together to formed a character that fitted me perfectly. Whether or not it portrayed the same thing on the rest of society's mainstream was entirely a different story as I often considered myself to be a rather strange character. I did realize that having lived and digested the past days of my life, taking and learning what they had to offer has taken me that duplex on that rainy November morning. It might or might not have been the right place for my soul. The prestigious trade award hanged on the wall may satisfy the soul for the moment but can easily became petty importance the next day. But I knew then that whatever the searched was, the art of happiness was about acceptance and understanding. They were no longer about fictions running around wild but were about learning to understand what I could not accept and to accept what I could not understand. To lived the day with what I knew from yesterday and prayed tomorrow will come as only faith has the control to bring me tomorrow.

1. Ukiyo-e (pronounced oo-kee-oh-ay) was a style of popular art in Japan during the Edo period, inexpensive and usually depicting scenes from everyday life.
   

   
   Ukiyo translates as "floating world" - an ironic wordplay on the Buddhist name for the earthly plane, "the sorrowful world". Ukiyo was the name given to the lifestyle in Japan's urban centers - the fashions, the high life, and the pleasures of the flesh. Ukiyo-e is the art documenting this era. - Source artcyclopedia.com
   

A fiction about lost love of the past and the middle age crisis of a Tokyo business man. Murakami's literate poetic language tells the story surrounded with old jazz ambiance taking us into the quirky mind of a jazz owner club in Tokyo full with longing of undying childhood romance found again with renewed sensualities and dark complexities...