Motionless, I stayed overwhelmed, wearing his face on my t-shirt, I was now looking at him in the coffin. A white coffin, with white inner lining and ruffles. Him, wearing his black Sunday suit, a different colour, bloodless, eyes closed, lips sealed....

I don’t seem to be able to write lately, overwhelmed by the last weeks of intense digging into my box of resilience. Once as strong as the old leather and wooden trunk kept by my mother in her bedroom my box recently felt as fragile and small as a worn...