I took those pictures and some others in my last year of high school. That time, two friends of mine came over and we played in the rice field near my house. The three of us had a very fun memories and that moment became precious to me myself because after that we’re studying in three different town and practically separated after graduating high school.
I’ve been wanting to come playing again at that place, maybe make one or two sketch since the environment was very nice, so a few days ago I took time to go there. What’s supposed to be a large field of rice leaves turned to be houses and shops block. It’s full of building until the furthest part.
Seeing that scenery, my heart was kind of hurt. That’s the place where I, and many other kids of my village, had been spending our childhood playing. We’re running, chasing each other in its footpath. We’re playing marbles and flying our kites high in its ground. Put our feet in mud and splashing water to each other in the stream, that’s the memories of childhood that I will never forget.
But at that exact moment when I saw the bricks and steel taking over leaves and stream, I can’t help but asking myself what it will look like in ten or twenty years. Will my children get to know how it feels like putting their little feet in the stream’s cold water? Will they get to see how pretty it is when the rice leaves turning its color into golden-yellow? Or will they only know it from some BCI devices?
What we human call modernization sometimes is such a cruel thing.
Sidoarjo, December 31st 2013