spiderpig | it's over now.

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The past week has been a flurry of burnt incense, the flickering of lotus candles and watching the reality of 'my ma ma's gone' sink in. Like incense it disintegrates so slowly, so innocuously - I only catch a whiff of it sometimes and choke on the smoke. And then when it has turned into a white column of ash, someone's breath makes it tremble for a brief split second and it crumbles into dust. Sometimes I purposefully flick the joss stick in my red-stained hands, the ash falls off before its time. Other times I just watch it burn, a small tiny ring of glowing ember until it can no longer bear its weight and it collapses.

Ma ma, rest in peace. I would have liked you to see me get married, or my brother get married and serve tea to you but you're now finally breathing well and able to move freely.