Chapter 37

• The next morning, as a light mist still hung over the fields and roosters called to one another in the distance, Daniel was already sitting alone at the bale bengong. In front of him was a glass of kopi tubruk made by Ayu’s father, and a brown leather notebook nearly filled with his scribbles—places he had visited, people he had met, and... feelings slowly blooming in his heart, lying open just like that.
• But that morning, his mind wasn’t on feelings. It was on opportunity. He recalled his journey the previous day—seeing handicrafts sold on the roadside, small-scale coffee farmers drying beans in their front yards, and humble little eateries like Ni Ketut’s place in Diong that served incredible flavors yet remained off the digital tourist map.
• He began to write slowly: