Almost 25 years ago, I was traveling with a large group of students. Vanessa was insistent that we track down this cemetery and go see Jim Morrison's grave.
Not only did I feel the spirits of everyone buried here recently, but I also had vivid memories of those awesome kids.
The place speaks for itself.
I've been accused of being morbid and thinking too much about dying. Guilty. Morbid has such a negative connotation. I don't consider being morbid necessarily bad. Death deserves all the attention it can get.
Doesn't that red door pop?? Ya gotta love a bold grieving family!
We prevailed upon a lovely mother and daughter from Delft, Netherlands, to GPS us to Chopin. I had remembered it as being so beautiful.
Fred...
This could certainly be the basis for at least a smashing short story--perhaps a book. I wonder if she's wearing her official tomb grooming suit. Bless her heart.
How does one start a cemetery? Do you need a permit? We've got some space for one out on Bench Rd.
Just...wow...
Even classics need to add a little funky town.
Exercise, fresh cool air, fellow morbid souls, ambience and perfect shadows made for a soul-lifting morning in Paris.
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