By | 1 August 2014

The streetlamp casts a dim light on the ground, like a train trailing behind.
I’m now squatting down by a rocking horse, on whose back rides
my daughter, hands firmly with the handles in a wanton ride.
Her lips half asunder, a joyous giggling is unleashed; her eyes
grows invisible, the inky night enclosed inside.
Five meters away Mum sits in a rocking chair, alone. Her limbs
hang down loosely, with a serenity like a statue.

In a flash, as it were, I drift into a vision where I sit in Mum’s position
with the same serenity; my daughter squats in my position, regarding a child
on horseback. Mum is mute, as she is lying in a shroud exactly like how
Grandma is positioned at this very moment.

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