My Morning Love

My Morning Love

It’s around eight in the morning and I’ve gone down to my local breakfast in Jakarta. I usually have the same, hot noodles and then I try a new mix every day in what ever goes in it. As long as it’s spicy; being sweaty is just the way for me in the tropics. ‘Lana’s’ there. I don’t know her real name, but that’s her ‘working name’. She is one of the local prostitutes and the only place, where she along with the other sweet girls from the area can go for a quiet breakfast, is at ‘Lala’s’. A place run by a same name, large and smiling Muslim woman, whom no one argues with and that has set upon herself the mission of being kind to the women whom have ‘lost their purpose’ as she puts it.

Lana is 22 and she makes about a 100 dollars a day, sometimes more. She always looks after herself she says and she’s good at what she does. She tells me that every morning. She wants to study medicine and live in Europe or Australia. That’s her dream. And to find a man that she can love. She tells me this every morning. You are My Morning Love.

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