
Foray into their world. A warm feeling amidst the chilling winter.
There were songs and prayers, laughter and dumplings, friendships rekindled and memories recounted.
The lepers village.
Some of them had coffins in their rooms. In preparation of an eventuality.
The dialect they spoke was unintelligent to me, just as mine was incomprehensible to them. I looked at an old lady and smiled, tried my best to convey my purpose to her with that smile.
A man in his 60s showed me pictures of his family. His son occasionally visits him. Sporadic nowadays. A teacher in the city. When will the visits stop? Maybe when the old man is no longer around? Why bother?
No comments:
Post a Comment