[Classical music plays]
[Dramatic music plays]
[Peaceful music playing]
[Indistinct singing]
When I was a little girl,
I used to go out on my porch
at night and watch as the moths
gathered towards the
warm glow of our house.
I would lie down under the
electric lamp hanging there
as the moths flew into it.
I would lie there with my mouth open
to catch their tumbling ashes
on my outstretched tongue.
I always felt sorry for them
wandering aimlessly to their death.
I thought collecting the
remains within myself
would give them some company in death.
They became part of me and felt loved.
But I can't pretend it
wasn't selfish on my part.
I wanted to be loved, too.
I wanted to be part of something.
Part of something alive.
All I ever had was ash and smoke.
My mother always seemed
to be facing away from me,
billowing cigarette smoke surrounding her
like a dark halo.
It's as if the smoke prevented her from seeing
or hearing me, encasing us both in the veil.
The ashes fell down gently
from her fingertips,
coating my life, the air,
but this ash has no meaning.
It could never love me. It was never alive.
It almost seems like she never died.
She was always a fine dust,
held together only by a
feeble will to carry on.
Until one day she just collapsed
and floated down into a pile.
[Peaceful music playing]
[Mid-tempo music playing]
[Both slurping]
[Slurping]
[Insects chirping]
[Birds chirping, insects chirping]
You're on our property.
Go away.
You're in our spot.
[Both] Go away.
No.
[Ding]
[Keypad beeping]
[Line dialing]
Help.
[Horn honks]
[Indistinct shouting]
[Air hissing]
[Applause]
[Both laugh]
[Ding]
[Bodies thud]
[Squish]
♫ Mosquito on my hand.
This camping trip didn't go as planned.
Sucking my blood
like soda from a can.
Mosquito bled me dry.
Flat on its back, too fat to fly.
Full of my blood.
And at least three times my size.
In the dark of the night,
I turned on my flashlight and saw
a crumpled up grape juice box
that came with a bendable straw.
Mosquito left at dawn.
My breath had an interesting
stench when I yawned.
And all of my blood
is right back where it belongs. ♫
[Dramatic chords strikes]
[Panting]
[Floor creaks]
[Chord strikes]
[Woman] Whoo! One, two, three, four.
Feel that ...
[Floor creaks]
[Sound blares, screaming]
[Screeching]
[Screeching stops]
Huh?
[Growls]
[Roars]
[Screaming]
[Sound blaring]
[Glass shattering]
[Blaring stops]
[Humming]
[Gasps]
[Screaming]
[Peaceful music plays]