I lay quietly in my own bed. My bed is a coffin placed in a pit that is two meters long and one meter wide. My body is covered with patterns, with many layers inside and out. My hair was pulled into a beautiful bow, and on both sides of the wing feathers, there were two bouquets of roses blooming like flames. My eyes were closed, my skin was pale, my limbs were stiff, and I had stopped breathing for three days. I am already a dead man. But my eyes are not dead, they are wandering in the air with my soul, above my body, looking down at the people around me.