“The coffin is lifted, the earth is laid, and family and friends begin to cry. Firecrackers pop, suona horns wail. They carry you in front while the mourners follow behind. At first, you don’t understand the suona’s tune; the next time you hear it, you’re already in the coffin. You know nothing of the world outside, your heart set only on dancing to the Underworld Disco. You party all the way to the Hall of King Yama, and from then on, you have no longing for the human world.”
“A pipa lasts a thousand years, a guzheng ten thousand; one erhu can play a lifetime. When the suona sounds, the show is over. The music plays, the cloth covers you, and the whole village waits for the feast. Some walk, some are carried, a swath of white follows behind, and even the children laugh.”
