Kembara Hati Safiya

Today is another slow day. The fever is still here. It is like an unwanted guest in my body. It makes my bones feel old. It makes my head feel full of cotton. My world is my bed, my pillow, and my blanket. I do not want to watch TV. The sounds are too loud. I do not want to read a book. The words are too blurry. So, I reach for my box of treasures. My box of postcards. It is my magic box. It can take me anywhere in the world, without moving my tired body. My fingers move past sunny beaches. They move past colorful flowers. Then they stop. They touch a postcard that is dark and serious. It is not a happy picture. It is a powerful picture. In the picture, there is a giant building. It looks like a black castle from a fairy tale. It has two tall, pointy towers. They are like two giant fingers pointing up to the sky. The whole building is covered in details. So many lines, and windows, and little statues. It looks like it is made of black lace. The castle is so big. It is bigger than all t...

Today, my body is not my friend. I have a fever. My head feels hot. My skin feels hot. But sometimes, I feel very cold inside. It is a strange feeling. My bones hurt. My muscles hurt. In Malay, we call this ‘demam urat’. It feels like every part of my body is tired and complaining. I do not want to eat. The food has no taste. I do not want to move. The bed is my home now. It is my world. This world is small. It is just my room. The fan turns and turns. The clock on the wall says tick-tock . It is a slow and boring world. When you are sick, time moves very slowly. One hour feels like one day. In my small world, I look for something to do. My eyes are tired of the phone. My ears are tired of the quiet. I see a box on my table. It is a simple brown box. But inside, it is not simple. Inside are my treasures. Inside are my windows to the world. The box is full of postcards. Friends from far, far away send them to me. Each postcard is a picture. Each postcard is a story. Each postcard is a h...