On loop I entered and reentered a generic mash up of a funeral parlour. It was a wake. My dad was in the casket. People murmured around. Crowds grew and shrunk. I was aware of soundscape but staring at the tan berber carpet. A figure at my shoulder leaned into my space, looked past me at the casket, chin raised. It was my dad looking at himself. 'by gore, the old knave did it, humph" and he shrugged extra wide, like it was nothing to him but was. And he shuffled off.