I easily fall in love with your words.
The words which are successfully arranged by you.
The words which I bet if a girl reads them, will make her melt—like an ice cube meeting the sunlight.
The words which are beautifully collected in your book—you’re a writer. But you prefer to call it a corps of ‘antologi prosa’ than calling it a novel.
I clearly remember our first meeting; I hope it will not be the last. We met at the book fair. I bought your novel because someone recommended it. You signed the book and wrote something on the first page. That’s all. We met for a brief time.
I’m one of your followers on Twitter. I’m in love with your tweets, with how those words usually change my mind, my very point of view. Often, I have a new knowledge about the new things that you share in your timeline. I’m always very excited to read your tweet when you’re trying to give your ideas for or arguments against inappropriate policies. I once sent you a tweet, of course with the nervousness while expecting you’ll tweet me back. I carefully arranged the words, yeah, hoping my tweet can attract your attention. I remember how I smiled like an idiot when I saw your username in my mention. If Marry Jane has Spider-Man, then I luckily know a Word-Man.
One thing for sure, I hope our first meeting is not our last one; I hope I can see your warm smile again, even warmer than before. I really expect we can know each other.
Thank you Mr. Good-with-Words, I will be happy being myself, I promise you.
(Don’t we all know that one person who’s just so good with words we easily fall for them? Was initially written by Rifqa Cecilia Indrawati as ‘Mr. Wise-Man’, but I thought the new title suits it better.)