The Lonely Ghosts

For three days in August, Japanese spirits of the dearly departed return to Earth to visit their ancestors during the Obon festival. There are dances and obeisances paid to lost loved ones, graves are visited and paper-lanterns are lit, the dead are made live again through the last bits of their essence in the waking world: our memories.

But what of those with no one left to remember? The beggars. The urchins. The isolated that left the world alone, and drift through the afterlife unfettered by the memory of their corporeal counterparts. Do they drift the streets as they did in life, searching for a glint of recognition in the eyes of passers-by? Do they long for an earthly anchor during this trifid necrolatry? I like to imagine the lost spirits of Japan, flowing through the bustling streets for three nights, finding solace in the remembrance of each other, and perhaps finally gaining a measure of peace.

19th-century ghost scrolls [Pink Tentacle]