The thanatologist has two dead women at her feet and a daughter who screams, torn, for her mother. One of the bodies has been in the sun for more than an hour, covered with sheets and blankets. They have put lime on top to make it smell a little less. Finally they are going to take them away in a van, but you have to write their names and their ID number so that they are not just white bags. Others more. “Does anyone have a piece of paper? Something to write on? Anyone!?” she screams desperately. There are even labels and markers missing to name the dead.
