I don't know what I should talk about - about death or about love? Or are they the same? Which one should I talk about?
We were newlyweds. We still walked around holding hands, even if we were just going to the store. I would say to him, "I love you". But I didn't know then how much. I had no idea ...
He started to change - every day I met a brand-new person. The burns started to come to the surface. In his mouth, on his tongue, his cheeks - at first there were little lesions, and then they grew. It came off in layers - as white film ... the color of his face ... his body ... blue ... red ... gray-brown. And it’ all so very mine! It's impossible to describe! It's impossible to write down!
Right before my eyes - in his formal wear - they put him in that cellophane bag of theirs and tied it up. And then they put this bag in the wooden coffin.
They didn't even let me hug the coffin.
I crawl around the grave on my knees. Always on my knees...
I was twenty-three.