Flying over Java

Rain pours down. Red barong masks on the bale across the courtyard stare back at me. Lanterns and Chinese urns ornate the terrace over a circular table. Gongs thundering in the background. After the rains, men in white wrappings pass by. It is our last night here.
Flying over Java,the landscape below like little neat packets and clusters quilted together in patterns of rivers, low and miniature groupings, small, squat, but clean. Tiny cartons of tea and Sprite for sale.