Remembrance of the dead by N.G. Pentzikis (A fragment)

The dead change the whole aspect of the city.  Everywhere you go, memory produces in you hallucinations of the smell of incense and of frankincense.  You are afraid revenants will come out… For the repose of the dead the priest at the cenotaph is reading the names.  Paper with names on it covers the top of the narrow credence table, under the “spitted lamb”, the Christ of His final humiliation.