A Short History of Farida, A Glimpse of Her Writings, and A Peek to Her Heart. Author of "Dan Hujan pun Berhenti" (2007) and "Karena Kita Tidak Kenal" (2010).
I Love Words. And I Am Loved by Words.
Song: Rammstein – Hilf Mir
He walked into the room. It was so chill, and the room smelled so good. What scent is this, he thought. There was at least 40 people in the room. Some sat at the chairs. Some sat in front of the teller, handing out or being handed out money.
Money.
He looked at the guard behind him, who, at least was just 30 years old. Black hair, small but firm body, and he looked sleepy. But did it matter? Even a gigantic 2 meters person could die when a bullet shot through his head. But could he?
The song played in his ear, he couldn’t even understand. Germans, he cursed. They said the song would help him to set the mood to do the thing he had to do. But he couldn’t understand any single word in it. And he was shaking. The song didn’t help. What a shotgun in his backpack could do if he couldn’t even do it?
Hilf Mir, the singer of the song sang with its heavy voice.
Hilf mir. Hilf mir.
What does that even mean?
Fuck this.
The next day, the newspaper printed out the big title in the front page:
A SONG AS A CRY FOR HELP, A man killed in a suspected robbery attempt, with “Help Me” song playing in his headset.
