the.face.of.d---th.

This might sound very creepy (and rightly so), but as I was making my way to work on Tuesday morning (later than usual), I somehow crossed paths with a funeral procession from the adjacent block to mine (same block that the police had cordoned off on sunday). It seems almost too much of a coincidence that I had to be late that very day, so that I would meet the mourners face-to-face. They were following the funeral van slowly, walking through the carpark that I have to cross in order to get to the MRT station, and as a result, I was literally forced to stop, and wait for them to cross, much as a car would wait for a flock of sheep to cross its path deep into the pastoral landscape.

I didn't think much about it until I went home that same night, only to find the void deck of my block occupied by another (yes, you guessed right) FUNERAL. At 4.30am in the morning, the lights of the makeshift funeral parlour, albeit bright, started to take on a ghostly glow. The wind began to turn chilly and the whispers of the the night rang hollow in my ears. As I hurried past the coffin, and heard the low drone of Buddhist chantings, I began to wonder why is it that death is being shoved into my face both day and night? I find funerals creepy indeed, and everytime I walk past one, my heart never fails to beat a tad harder, my feet unconditionally rushing a tad faster. Could this be a sign? I just pray for the safety of my loved ones right now.