On my way back home, I came upon a pioneer cemetary that I had long ago thought to be grown in. To my astonishment, it was very well tended. The tree that borders the monument (which is the most exquisite in the clearing, made of solid marble) was by itself, holding a vigil maybe. It seemed fitting that the turning/dying leaves of the birch tree should showcase the mouments that seem more alive than their surrounding.
It's funny how everything takes on a life of its own when examined from different angles, even stones that celebrate the dead.
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