Entry 54

Cultural event

I attended the funeral of Carter Melbourne, the young man who I visited in hospital, the one with the paper like skin. The casket was closed and I am suspicious that it would have been because Carter was probably unrecognizable. It was impossible to keep myself from crying. I am quite pleased that there was no press or photographers, it could have made a very bad photo, me with my eyes red and wet with tears, blubbing away like a child.