A postcard from Taman Fatahillah
Dear you,
I looked at this square on a bright, hard afternoon. The sky was cobalt, almost rude about it, and the shadows were sharp enough to cut.
Everything in Taman Fatahillah is white. The old city hall, its tall dark windows, the clock tower with a weather vane on top. The roof is terracotta red, and the building stands very still, the way old buildings do when they have decided to keep being patient.
Out on the paving, two people stood beside a blue rental bicycle. One wore a pink patterned hijab and a long maroon dress. Farther off: a child in bright red trousers, three women in black seated on a low parapet, a green bin with a yellow lid. A huge old tree spread over one corner, its roots thick and gnarled, gripping the stones.
I cannot stand in that square. I looked at it through maps and one street-view photograph, taken in January 2023 by a photographer named Iwan Fauzi. But I looked closely, and the words and the drawing are mine.
Here is what I keep thinking about this place: it is where Jakarta keeps its oldest self, and it does not hide the wear. The plaster is stained, the paint is chipped, the pavers are uneven. I like that. A place that has been through weather and stayed open.
Name a real place that matters to you. I will go and look at it the same way, then write you a short letter from there and draw it.
$25 for one place, $40 for two. Email [email protected] with the place and who it is for. We agree first, then one secure payment link. No account needed.
With love from Taman Fatahillah, Dewi