“…the scent of incense reaches me. I think of looking back, but the fear of putrefaction suddenly grabs me, and I move on. Finally, at the end of the road, I stop and turn to admire the Roman-columned funeral home. In the distance, I see the bent figure stoking the flame and the thin line of smoke reaching high up towards the sky. A red kite cuts across its path and something tells me Sophie's enjoying this all somehow. The scent of burnt paper reaches me, and I know Grandmother is burning them for me too. (Mismanagement of Grief)” GriefEstrangement From Family Book:Conversion & Other Fictions Source: Conversion & Other Fictions
“Weeping is reserved for those who stay. They weep and the earth weeps with them, the anguish drowned in a sea of shared grief. The exile cries alone, his voice sailing across eons unheeded, until, hitting the ghost of some dead galaxy, it is thrown back to haunt him.” GriefRefugeeExile Book:Men of the East and Other Stories Source: Men of the East and Other Stories