Tuesday, 22 June 2010

I visited the cemetery as a child and I just about remember the headstones slanting all around me as though they were jagged teeth set unevenly around a jaw that seemed set to close at any moment.

The grassy beds in between the tombs held no recreation for me as a youngster, I was always held in awe to the black paths, afraid of walking upon the body of some poor soul, more afraid perhaps that I would simply imagine the corpse beneath my step. Crows would hop from branches down onto the hardened earth and begin to tear at tree roots and the impacted layers of coloured, decomposing foliage and at that moment I would ask my father if we could leave.

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