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About Surabaya

So, I’m dreamin’, right? Me, slippin’ through alleys, fog thick as soup, lookin’ for her. “You’re not ready yet!”—that’s what the dad says in *The Return*, and I’m thinkin’, am I? Heart’s poundin’, palms sweaty—excitin’ but dodgy. Maybe she’s got them tired eyes, smokin’ a fag, leanin’ on a wall. “Where you goin’, love?” she’d purr, and I’d fumble, all shy. We swears! I’d prolly trip over me own feet, clumsy git.

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The transatlantic marriages of the late nineteenth and early twentieth cen- turies whereby British peers courted young American women of wealthy.

Lunchtime rolls around, and I’m starving. I hit up this little warung on Jalan Diponegoro. Best nasi goreng ever! I’m chowing down, and this street performer starts playing some sick tunes. I’m vibin’ hard, just forgettin’ about the craziness of the day.

A guardian for the late Elvis Presley's daughter was...