As the evening set in, the colors of my bedroom took on a doomsday glow. I stepped out onto the balcony, sucked in a breath of the balmy, acidic stuff they call air, and glanced westward. The sky was in pain. It was as if hell had punctured the earth right here in Jakarta.
In all my life, I’ve never seen a sky as burning red and intensely saturated.
Pollution breeds art.