Nirwan Dewanto

I ALWAYS remember this half-drunken couple: sitting leisurely on a sofa, they are bickering about whether the moon in the sky of New York is purple or golden yellow. They try to be intimate, but to no avail, as both are drawn to their own memories. The woman, Jane, remembers her husband, who she imagines is somewhere in Alaska; the boyfriend, Marno, suddenly feels as if his wife were close to him. The lights from the row of skyscrap