Description

I crossed the rusted gate, took the incense, and stepped into the monastery, leaving behind me the bustling street of street-vendors and smell of barbecue.  

I ambled along the cobblestone path, bathed in shattered sunshine from the leaves of the evergreens. Along the path I passed the brick-red temple with carved Oriental roof, a statue of the Buddha smiling mysteriously in the white smoke of incense, and a monk in a grey cloak holding a book. I greeted the temple, the Buddha statue, and the monk in white smoke.

I stopped in front of it. 

Behind the wood and smoke it stood alone, with its dark wooden doors shut. I opened the door, stepped into the doorway, walked downstair to a chamber. It’s the place where visitors are shunned, voices flow silently, and the loved dead are buried and stored. It’s where my grandmother stayed. She smiled in the picture, black and white. She smiled at me there eternally. I kneeled down in front of her, bent down my head until it touched the ground with both of my hands lying on the ground. I stayed still, kneeling silently, heart beating loudly, murmuring faintly. I kneeled down three times and stayed, staring at her silent smile.

I rose up, left behind me the temple, the Buddha, the monk, and the silent smile in black and white. I left her there. 

I returned to the bustling street.