Melinda Wongkumahd

In the spring, after the death of my grandma, keeps me thinking about death in the 18th year of my life, with other thoughts and faith in death from other human beings who believe in life.

As the demands of working life begin to consume her, Weethara dreams one day that a pair of goat horns has grown from her forehead. The strange memory of encountering the Goatman as a child resurfaces, after being buried for fifteen years.