ILLUMINATION
Published in

ILLUMINATION

A Man Dies When People Forget Him

Photo by Guillaume de Germain on Unsplash

My grandmother’s brother was a fine lad. He was quirky, charming and bold as my grandmama once described him. He was just around 8 but to my grandmama; her brother was the morning star that shone the brightest.

I visited his grave after 4 years. He has been dead for almost a century. I remember the place, where he was buried. It was a small cemetery. Now there is a pathway built on it more than 100 years

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Riku Arikiri

Riku Arikiri

It’s never black or white. Sometimes there’s a bit of spicy red in there as well.