My dad had a bottle of her perfume hidden under his mattress, though, and when he was out on his rounds, or down the Engineers with his mates, I would sometimes sneak into his bedroom and spray a little of that perfume — it was
called Cinnabar — onto my pillow and maybe pretend that Mum was watching TV in the next room, or that she'd just popped into the kitchen to get me a cup of milk and that she'd be back to read me a story.
The vivid red is actually a traditional ink pigment, bright as
cinnabar and
called zhusha, dissolved in water and stained into the white gauze, on which the artist has inscribed, in black calligraphy, fragments of a diary.