Lush Life(Chapter 1)

-Hello?
-Yes?
-Whats' your name?
-My name? Why do you need my name?
-Oh..so that it is easier to address you.
-I see.But...do we know each other?
-No, we don't.Well, I suppose you don't easily stuck a conversation with a stranger, do you?
-Yes...in fact, I am busy right now..what do you want?
-Me?Ok, lets see...lets talk about life.You know,em...incidents that happen around us..
-Look, I don't know who the hell are you nor your intention.I need to do my laundry and prepare lunch for my family.If it is not something important I will put down the phone,get it?
-A few minutes will do...your name?
-Flower.
-Ok, Flower then.How is your father?
-My father passed away recently...
-Oh, sorry to hear about that.
-It's ok..now we are still practicing the forty-nine days of religious ritual in hope that he can rest in peace.According to our beliefs, at this seven weeks the departed will encounter several diverged paths and he must make a wise choice to enter the Gate of Heaven.Nevertheless, his karma was the rope which drags him to his future...so while his soul is wandering searching for a new body or in another medium,we will do some offerings and pray with sincerity.
-I see...we are not and never will have the chance to decide our fate in life besides ur death and others' death.Ok, put it this way, you can't extend your life bar but you can end it earlier.Same goes for others. Hang on a rope, jump from 18th floor, breath in exhaust gas, stab yourself with your knife, these are decisions that you are capable of. Biologically, we can struggle and climb up from prey to predator, predator of fate but not led by fate. What I am trying to say is death is just another major decision in life.
-Yes...perhaps this explains why I can't shed tears during my father's funeral. It has nothing to do with emotions or feelings, no, I am not cold-blooded or cruel. I just hollowed out my emotional core, as if asking everyone to leave the room in my mind so that I can space out and remorse the silence. Silence without the presence of my fathers' breath symphonied with the dull-rotating sound of the ceiling fan, an occasional cough from his mouth, sound of wooden beads colliding inphase with his whispering recite on mantras and sutras...I can't distinguish whether I am too numbed or too shocked..
-Let bygone be bygone. Did your father's death changed your perception on life?
-Yes. I did reconsidered death and his meaning. Sorrow are preserved and shouldn't last beyond the date after his death. Bodies are shells contained with souls, afterall.When the soul departs, left behind the shell and gradually, decay took place, returned our remains back to our Mother Earth. So you can imagine this: a charming, gorgeous girl will grow wrinkles, degenerate in height, hunchback, visible blue-railway like veins, and can't breath in the last gasp, puff! there goes 1 life.
-Em but now we are still breathing and walking under the sun! No matter how short it is, we still have a few blank pages in our life to draw! Why not produce a VanGogh masterpiece rather than continue sketching and erasing the history of your father's death? Flip to the next page, theres' plenty of empty space for you to fill in.
-No. I am just trying not to escape from reality. Reality that we will die in future. We will suffer and climb until we realised that we can't change our fate. We are mortals, not an invulnerable body.This is called acceptance, not tormenting my beliefs.
-Ok...fine, thanks for this conversation anyway. Catch up with you later, Flower.
-Are you from the Counseling Service or somekind of survey company?
-Tut.....tut.....tut....