When she was buried there were those around me who seemed to be in grief and mourning. Although not a monster, I felt mainly the pressure to be in grief. As if it was strange to be so cold. I did not see her corpse, but I did see the photos they had put about her coffin. It seemed so sad. Those photos were so loud, they spoke so clearly "I am gone forever." "These moments can never be repeated." There was the finality of being and a motionless activity. A speaking out from the dead towards the living. I felt it better not to look, these pictures were too strong. Maybe it would be better, for a time at least, to not mention or to look at the dead. Better for the living who are so delicate and open...