Pity, He Did Not Write Even More

Taufik Abdullah

He was lying face up and his recently operated-on legs were still too painful for him to move. A friend from Yogya and I stood at either side of his bed. We spoke softly about light matters. Suddenly, as if remembering something, he said weakly:

I cannot imagine I will write a memoir. Perhaps I will write an anti-memoir in Malrauxs style. But, should I really imitate Malraux? He smiled. He found it funny that he should reject th

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