Monday, 21 June 2010


One can imagine it, even if one has not been there. Dense gravel paths slowly winding past stacks of graves, monuments to the dead rising out of the earth as though they are pushing through from beneath the ground. Moss creeping over the corners of stones.


Maria talked to Terlecki of graves old and new, of stone epitaphs that were weathered beyond comprehension, set next to slabs of polished black marble and of unnamed beds of concrete, cracked and sunken and covered with fallen leaves. Memories of this place or others like it come to me easily.