Dear hope, the city I wrote to you about today is drizzling—the kind of light rain I love to walk through unshielded, though the air is cold. But dear hope, I know one day, this mizzle will turn warmer, softened by someone's presence.

Two days ago, Mbak Lia (Edmalia Rohmani) visited this city, and we agreed to meet at Circular Quay. The forecast had warned of rain all day, yet our night meeting happened under no umbrella. We first connected over our shared interest in literature, so it was only natural that poem-like words found their way into our conversation as we strolled along the damp paving blocks toward the Opera House.

"Imagine walking this path with the one you love," she mused, and something in her voice switched the poetry in me back on. "Under the rain, with this view," she added, patting my shoulder—as if she knew I'd been longing for that moment. The dream I'd set aside, buried beneath the rush of recent days, where my heart felt like it had been caught in a high-speed blender.

I looked far across the beach, the Harbour Bridge was sparkling beautifully. The cars on the bridge were moving in slow motion as if it were a scene from a romantic movie where the character was surrounded by an air of melancholy. Imagine spending such a lovely night just walking serenely side to side with someone so dear to the heart. When I turned my head a bit, the Opera House was radiantly glowing. What a poem-worth situation it was. Flowery lines kept popping out in my brain as the romantic view of two Sydney landmarks shined in front of my eyes. There is no exaggeration in saying that this particular night in Sydney has inspired me to stay optimistic, especially regarding the old hopes.

As Mbak Lia spoke of her gratitude for being here, I couldn’t help but send a silent prayer of my own—that one day, I’d walk this path again beside someone dear. I listened to the gentle lapping of waves against the shore, hoping that wherever my future man was, he could somehow hear them too. The city was cold, my hands even colder as I pressed them against my face. Aamiin, I whispered into the dark sky.

That evening, one of my wishes was I wanted to fall in love. I wished for a love that steadies my heart, a love that feels like home to my wandering soul. A love that reminds me of how beautiful Allah’s plans are. A love where even the thought of his smile brings warmth. A love that is effortless, weightless.

I imagine him—a quiet, thoughtful old soul. A laid-back and grounded introvert with whom silence feels comfortable. Someone whose eyes hold the soft glow of morning light. Someone whose mind is a sunflower field I’d stroll through at a leisurely pace. Someone I could talk to for hours, days, months, years—forever—without ever reaching the end of his depth. Above all, someone who makes me remember Allah more, so that paradise feels just a little bit closer.

Sydney itself was once just a dream, a longing I had written in my diary. And yet, here I am. So I let myself believe that this wish, too, will one day come true.

Every city has a color, a feeling, a meaning. For me, Sydney is a symbol of hope. And I am hopeful that someday, I will meander this pavement, on a rainy night, beside him. When I turn my head, I can see a calm smile that will warm the cold air. I believe that the wishes I whispered into this magical city will, in time, find their way back to me.

Because Allah listens. Always.

Love, 

iim