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About Jakarta

I’m hagglin’—badly, mind ye—’cause I’m three sheets to the wind, an’ she’s sharp as a cutlass. “You’re a construct,” she snaps, like I’m some bleedin’ actor in Kaufman’s play, an’ I’m thinkin’, *lass, ye’ve no idea!* That got me riled, aye—don’t ye dare call Cap’n Jack a puppet! But then she winks, an’ I’m happy as a clam, ‘cause she’s got sass, an’ I like ‘em feisty. “Savvy?” I slur, an’ she rolls her eyes—fair ‘nough!

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As the sun starts to set, I head back to the archives. I’m exhausted but happy. I sit down, and I can’t help but think about how much this city has been through. Meulaboh is tough, man. It’s got scars, but it’s also got spirit. I’m just an archivist, but I feel connected to this place. It’s like I’m part of its story.

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