"It is called the song of death," she answered to have her son give her a puzzled look, "It is a beautiful song."
"Death is not beautiful," said little Damien.
"Why do you say so? Death is only the beginning of a lot of things, it is never the end. When you grow up you will know and understand that there is solace in pain. It is much warmer than the sun," she raised her hand as if the rays of the setting sun could heat her cold skin, "Do you think it is odd, dear boy? That I speak of it so fondly," her voice was soft and had always been.
Damien shook his head, "Nothing could ever be odd when it comes to you, mother," this earned a chuckle from his mother.
