This is where the dead wait. The light waltzing through the glass seems inappropriate. The dark to leaks from the open door, sapping and suffocating the light of a precious day. The darkness is comparable to the diffusion of hot water in a now cold bath. The walls lack in texture. All flickers warm. The candlelight is appropriate yet unsettling as it’s light pirouettes around the room’s enclosure.

Look, there is a coffin. That’s why your here, isn’t it? There is no indication of time passing. The room may as well be an image. All that has ever mattered is the room and the body.

She looks as if she’ll wake at any moment.

You can see the body is cold, yet it’s expression is warm. Accepting perhaps. A welcoming taboo. Wispy hair. A face that has seen everything, experienced everything. This body emanates respect.

It’s crazy to think to we are all living a uniquely rich experience. Just being in the company of one is enough to ponder on the enormous density of intellectual property, of memories and experience. What if this body was the missing piece of some collective thought to solve a technological puzzle?

The dead don’t only leave a void in the hearts of those who are close but also form a gap in the spheres of thought which can lead to discoveries. This mind, although it was eventually rendered useless by its loss of basic abilities, represents an inexhaustible source of old and exotic knowledge. Between immaturity and senility was the peak of this one’s brain’s activity, where complex thought was commonplace.

This one has lost its life force. Although unresponsive in its last months living, this body now has lost its ability to love, feel pain, and oppose its physical deterioration. Nothing but a husk of a human. No sign of substance, personality, character or knowledge.

The ceiling is low, another shade of flickering orange. More glossy than the walls. The chair beside the coffin is an invitation to sit. Its grain is apparent under a glossy finish also picking up hints of the candlelight. The weaving pattern of the wood is uniform yet it retains its imperfections. The wood is being kept alive in a beautiful gown of wax.

Think about how many dead this room has seen. It is breathing light and it is the vessel;

“Sit, mourn, and know I’ll be patient.
Ill help for what’s next,
whether burial or cremation.
Once you’re sadly satisfied,
be on your way.
I have many others to tend to today.”