Endless rows, countless lives
As I shot these photos in the cemetery, it stung me to remember that each cold hard stone represents a life lived, a life lost. Sadly, it looks like some had been mostly forgotten. I wonder if the people had moved on from The City of the Dead, a place where, according to a novel I read once, you live until there is no longer anyone alive to remember you. Then you “move on.”
Only your imagination can tell you what that means.