The long winter in Sihilis is always blurry and monotonous. The white snow that fell at night covered the hills in thick layers. The boundary between night and day is blurred by the gray color of the sky, but the people who have lived in this remote town of Sicilis for a long time know that when a trace of fish belly white light shines in the distance, they have ushered in a new day.
As usual, Qerlan went to the courtyard gate to clear the snow in the early morning. Today is the last day of three years. She swept away the accumulated snow beside the fence and saw a little bit of new green emerging from the soil against the roots of the fence. Chelan was dullly aware that winter was about to pass, and the plants that bloomed in early spring had buried their seeds in the soil the previous summer.
Chelan piled the snow back. For the life living on the land in winter, the snow was like a soft quilt that kept warm.
There is no tradition among Sihilis people in taking posthumous photos, and Chelman doesn't like taking photos either. Except for the second year after he picked up Chelman, a troubadour traveling around the continent passed through the small town of Sisilis. In order to thank Chelman for taking him in for one night, he took a photo of the two of them with the new copper plate camera that was popular in the mainland at that time.
Dragging the canoe and walking down the slope, when she saw the boundary marker of Xixilis, it meant that she was about to leave the town. Chelan looked back and thought in a daze that from now on, no one would really know where she came from, and no one would love her as much as she loved Chelman.
Intention: Death is like a lamp going out
