And suddenly, something that looked like a dandelion head floated into view, and I stood mesmerised as it hovered before me. When I peered inside, I realised that I could see a tiny winged creature within. I turned to my mother and said, “Look at that!” but all she could see was a dandelion head.

Thirteen years ago I lost my father to Lung cancer, three years ago I lost my best friend to breast cancer. Besides cancer they both shared the same belief, that when we die, it’s lights out, there’s nothing else beyond death.

Although I didn’t manage to see my father before he died, I stayed with my friend. During her last days she would talk about someone else being in the room with her, sometimes she would speak to this someone.

My mother told me the same thing happened with my father before he died. Maybe it was the drugs, or maybe there really was someone with them in the room waiting to take them on. Whatever it was it seemed to give my friend a sense of relief and comfort, that there really was something rather than nothing.

Everything in the inhabitant’s series was collected from my studio garden in Malaysia. The fruit fallen from the trees, the animals and insects which came and died, whether of natural causes or with a little help from my dog.

I liked to imagine them in their new environment where everything is at peace and any suffering is just a distant memory, if at all.