What can I say? Who doesn't have some facination with death? To be surrounded by it; broken stone, some sunken deep within the earth. Gravesyou can no longer see, but feel. The reality of what death is - no ghosts, grabbing hands, or reapers. Just silence. A cool wind. Dead flowers, bugs, grass. The sentinal dead tree in the cornor, tearing at the grey sky. You can lean on death. If you close your eyes, you can forget the city beyond the gate, the other world.

Entire families lie beneath my feet; my legs kick childishly as I sit on Thomas' headstone. To be so enamoured by death! It's always present, whether you see it or not. There are even pets buried here! Here's a child, Denise. She was only 11 days old. Look at the decreped false flowers. Were they meant to bring life back to the grave? A mockery, I'd say. Life has no place in Death. In a graveyard. Another child. But, my last statement, it cannot be right. Life and Death are utterly intertwined.