GREEDY BOOK SHOP

Sundays are sunny, that day usually people go on excursions with their beloved ones, for those who are in love or with their families relaxing at home—maybe they go to places of entertainment or do other fun things, and he is no exception, a semester VI student of French literature in one of the famous University in Jakarta. Who seemed to be rushing from his dirty boarding house to a place where he had a date?

In the pocket of his shabby shirt lay a piece of money that he did not have time to count first. He waited for the bus heading for Ciputat-Pulogadung at the bus stop next to the Padang restaurant while occasionally looking at the tarmac road which had no sidewalks, soon the bus arrived and he rushed to get on, soon the Driver Assistant who used to do his routine work asked for fare and he was forced to pay The coins are used to pay for the bus fare, which seems empty of passengers. While thinking for a long time he took a cigarette from his dirty bag, burned it and inhaled it with a long breath, but this morning he bought retail cigarettes at Mpok Ati's shop, he usually bills there, if only he counted his debt at Mpok Ati's shop he might not be able to pay it.

He looks calm and hopes a lot that later when he arrives at the place he adores he will be able to read some theories and literary criticism in bookstores, it's understandable that he can't afford to buy them, it's already difficult to pay the boarding fee, let alone buy original books, he has to be smart. Embed academic beauty in this way. When it comes to studying him usually spends hours in the library—because indeed his classmates call him a library tiger, in fact he rarely leaves the boarding house. His daily life is spent just dating books—if he just gets a delivery from his parents in the village, he doesn't hesitate to copy books belonging to his lecturers, which he usually visits—sometimes he has to go without food for two days in order to photocopy his idol's book, he's so crazy about studying and addicted books until he forgets to set aside for boarding money or even forgets to date the opposite sex for material reasons.

Between the buildings that dangle towards the fact that there is an absolute science that is anchored, Sharing establishments that are inspired by his heart's desire, comics, novels, books, journals and various knick-knacks of new information seem to be stretching to be swallowed up.

Not far from the building, he got off at the bus stop then fiercely stepped into the mall, it was a quarter past 3 he looked at the clock shop, and he noticed young single women showing off their plump buttocks and pouty pout and conspicuous makeup indicating an external establishment. He thinks this is the world and pop culture that dominates Jakarta—he's known to be into hip style at the moment; if you look at it it's not like the women in her village who are old-fashioned and innocent who usually wear headscarves or kebaya.

If you count the visitors to the mall, maybe he is one of the isolated aliens in that place, but armed with the belief that he will find beauty that he can drink, he ignores the tin man. When he got inside, the security guard turned and seemed to pay attention to him. It was only known that several visitors seemed to have been kicked out of the place, while muttering to himself could he be kicked out of that place-he entered the escalator which was right in front of the security's table indeed that was an excuse. Public safety—visitors' bags are checked one by one. And with a sigh of relief he was able to pass through the hurdle. Perhaps security saw him as eccentric as a quirky band boy with long, matted hair, not because he had dreadlocks, but because he rarely shampooed, in his arm was a dirty Jogja-style knitting bag that gave the impression of a slum pinned to his body.

Precisely at a famous bookstore he entered then left his bag and went straight to the bookshelves of literature and philosophy which were rarely touched by prospective buyers - there he could see the building of books lying proudly and anyone who read them let alone buy them would be over minded, he observed one by one literary books and it seems that the book he was looking for did not exist. With a sour face he turned to the next shelf and there he also did not find his dream book. "I'm really unlucky today." He accidentally ran into a woman who was none other than Lia, his classmate.

"Fal what book are you looking for?” "I'm looking for Agulhon's book, Maurice: "La Seconde République, 1848-1852", in: Histoire de la France with Derrida and Deconstruction." said Lia

“Oh, there's no way the book is here, it's an old book, if you want to find the book, just go to the bookstore next to this building. Guaranteed books of the same kind are there, oh yes by the way I'm going to Mac Dee my stomach is already growling, do you want to come with me?” said Lia said goodbye to leave.

"Oh yes thank you, I want to go straight there". Not to mention going to Mc Donald for lunch, just barely enough for the fare to go home, the wheel of words that bled in his drained heart.

He walked out of the mall, and headed straight to the place Lia had told him about. When he got there he left his bag at the storage place, when he got into it, "if I was established, I would have stripped this book naked and I raped its contents," he muttered to himself. And several pairs of eyes were fixed on him, from visitors to cashiers, who stretched and widened their eyes when they saw He was entering the venue. When he finds the right place to look around, now are the books he wants, even though they seem expensive, the most important thing is that he can swallow them whole and for sure he will find a strategic place to read them. Two counter workers could be seen watching him from a distance. And soon the two of them interrogated him to leave that place. How stupid was the executioner who only knew how to scavenge beauty through his reckless work, who was forced to expel him because he had a reading disease or indeed because he could not afford it. The statues stand firm and whoever you are; you will be amazed by the beautiful cover of the book, let alone the beauty of the place.

But what a bastard the executioner was who only knew how to make money. It's better to be a tiger of the library than to go to that place; if only the executioners were virtuous the results would be gratifying.

Achieving intelligence is difficult; it requires a ration of the sensitivity and materialism of the establishment. Professors, businessmen, rich single children will easily become intelligent because they swallow that beauty too often.

Meanwhile, He who is a trash creature will be driven away from civilization and will not experience the beauty of the book. It's an elite bookstore; those who come are elite creatures, not constipated creatures, let alone difficult ones. Greedy bookstores are meant for those with ties, not those who dress in rags. If he thinks about it, in fact there are always distortions and black-and-white classes to come there.