It has been a year since we lost our dear Ma/Abei. We have been remembering her through the year, of course; during some poetry readings, or at some sudden thought. Here are some photos, and a poem (by Rumi) that we would like to share.

A candle is made to become entirely flame.
In that annihilating moment
it has no shadow.

It is nothing but a tongue of light
describing a refuge.

Look at this
just-finishing candle stub
as someone who is finally safe
from virtue and vice,

the pride and the shame
we claim from those.