All evening I could hardly wait for everyone to fall sleep, then at ten thirty I brewed a liter of strong black tea and pulled the study door shut. I lit the joss sticks and started the mantras. Though I didn't understand the Sanskrit words, their ceremoniality was relaxing enough. Once more I pored over the recommendation,  jotting the chosen mantra onto a sheet of paper:
Aad guray namey
Jugaad guray namey
Sat guray namey
Siri guroo davy-ay namey.
...I used light violet thread for the white shirts, and dark blue for the dark ones. I got hold of every shirt that Gergő had been wearing recently. Drawing, threading, embroidering, snipping,  knotting. Humming while I worked, muttering, hunching, stretching. Crying. Embroider, embroider, embroider. By ten past four in the morning, all nine shirts hung ready in the wardrobe. In the space of a single night those nine shirts and I developed a mysterious, intimate bond. I knew you better than anyone.
 
translated by Dani Dányi