The Great Professor from The Street

I'm sad. Rental books near my boarding now never open again. I remember the first time I came over there.
The place is a spacious car garage, right next four neat rows of small stalls, stalls at the back is the bike shop, where service inter-gallon front, another front is where we will visit, and the very front near the road is photocopied shop.
Arriving in front of the door, I felt hesitate, there are a man in there. He sitted behind desks with shoulder-length haired, belted green head, and tattoos on both arms. My friend and I was sitting in front of the desk. Our conversation was pursed into private life. And from that conversation, I get an unexpected lesson of life.
Male long-haired 27-year-old turned out to be an orphan. From Blitar. The youngest of five brothers. His parents died in an accident bus, just a day after he drop-outed from high school! His lips trembled as he recounted it, his eyes filled with tears, he kept his head down, as if holding something, emotional shards.
From since the accident, he was hated by the four brothers. His brothers thought that he was the cause of his parents died. Because he felt was not accepted, he migrated to Surabaya. Arriving at Surabaya he was sleeping on the streets. Until he met a cleric, he said. This religious teacher who helped him to live in Surabaya. Opens the way to repent and learn to pray. And rented the place for his stall. He lived and live in the little book stall.
He scraped through bookrent's sustenance. If anyone borrow a book, he could eat, but if there’s not he is fasting. Sometimes he also helps in the bike workshop. He never felt a kinship that other people feel during the holidays. He never go anywhere every feast day, after prayers and around to the neighbors he returned to his stall is narrow. Sometimes once a month he visited by his forth brother, say hello and give him food. It's the only a piece of happiness he always looked forward to.
What a mystery life is not it?!