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The nature of Shafilea’s story meant that I had to wade through a place of deep secrets shrouded in silence. I reached out to those that knew her, inviting them to speak about her life and death, but to no avail, I continued my descent. I reached a place which was uncomfortable, I was forced to confront my own life experiences. In the midst of this unburying there was my own death, the death of being someone’s daughter. My mother died very suddenly, three months later I suffered physical trauma which left me immobile for many months. I felt stranded in the Underworld questioning my motivation for writing. I asked myself how I could continue to write about a mother and daughter when my deepest desire now was to bring my own mother back?During my confinement I re-read texts and gained new insights. I felt that I now fully understood Kafka’s pleas when he wrote:You say I should go further still, but I am already very deep down, and yet if it must be so, I will stay here. What a place! It is probably the deepest place there is. But I will stay here, only do not force me to climb down deeper


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