Everyone has lost someone, or, at least, that's what people say, but on days like this she wasn't always so sure. Especially today. Once a year they had a holy day to remember, and respect, their dead. Today, she came for the first death she remembered in her family, little brother. He had not even made it to his naming day. Now they had said that people disappear when they die, move on someplace else. On days like these though, she was convinced she could still feel them around - just watching, and loving those they had left behind. And sometimes, that was all you needed to have in order to hope. She offered a prayer for her brother's spirit, lit a stick of incense, and placed it next to those left by her father and mother. As she left the stone, she finally knew why some took this holy day as a celebration. People rarely truly leave, she decided, they only change.

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A bit of a mood piece. Put pen to paper and this is what happened. Colors in watercolor pencil.