The grave yards in Ireland are a sad lonesome place. When you start to look and read the names on the stones I feel a small connection of sadness, knowing that this was someone who was loved, and had a loved ones. Also I get a feeling of really understanding that we are part of our world, we decay, and the grass seems to grow greener and higher a year from when the body was burred. (I hope that doesn’t sound really bad, because its just nature, which is a BEAUTIFUL thing that is pushed aside and hardly every looked at in detail.
Yes, I feel the same sadness when I visit the cemeteries in my home town in England, I like to read them all… nice image!
when I go home (its more like my other home, Ireland) I spend hours cleaning up, and reading old grave stones; scrapping off the moss, trying to make out the old text.
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Yes, I feel the same sadness when I visit the cemeteries in my home town in England, I like to read them all… nice image!
when I go home (its more like my other home, Ireland) I spend hours cleaning up, and reading old grave stones; scrapping off the moss, trying to make out the old text.
– BabyDoll