No morning is not bright for Suwarti. The morning is the sun of his life. The wind is wet and cold, cloudy, fog and even rain, never an obstacle for him to meet in the morning and the sun of his life. Every morning, never pass from 6:30, when many housewives still getting ready to pack off their children to school, when people are going to the office may still not set up his clothes, Suwarti already circulating on the streets of housing complexes Our in Ciputat. His voice is loud but with a low tone we know already familiar. "Cake .. cake ... Cake sir? Cake Mom? "The voice was accompanied by his footsteps reverberating fast and sound like a drag sometimes sandals. Holding pastry wares, he walked along the housing that contains hundreds of homes. Her voice still sounds continue even from a distance.
The first time I was interested in Suwarti is because women are still so young, 30 years old, but he actually faced the Javanese past. Carrying wares with such fashion-mbok mbok herbs, with a nimble step, and, yes, he is always present in the measurement of time that never miss. Could not help me menyetopnya once upon a time, after he was hawking wares. And, he was with the courtesy of a mother who did not want to put a suspect to any person, serve my questions.
The first time I was interested in Suwarti is because women are still so young, 30 years old, but he actually faced the Javanese past. Carrying wares with such fashion-mbok mbok herbs, with a nimble step, and, yes, he is always present in the measurement of time that never miss. Could not help me menyetopnya once upon a time, after he was hawking wares. And, he was with the courtesy of a mother who did not want to put a suspect to any person, serve my questions.








