somethings, my dear, shall remain untold

don't ask what's the colour of death. no, it's not white. i know this man, he has lost his seven year old daughter. and he tells me, death is yellow with blue stripes. those were the colours of the little girl's bike, a memento of old he still keeps forsaken, never forgotten, somewhere in the garage.

no, you don't want to know it.

[taken from here, my translation]