Atmospherics spot-on at Pere Lachaise this morning. Meagre, warmth-lacking sunshine leaking in through early spring branches sporting the hints of summer to come. Greys of stone, greens of moss and ivy, dun brown of last autumn's leaf-fall, the decrepitude of a village memorialising the forgotten.
People expend so much effort trying to stave off the inevitable fading from memory that succeeds death. Wandering the grounds you're aware of how many stories you can never know, and that throws into relief those with which you're familiar.Heloise and Abelard lie within earshot of Chopin, but in between lie dozens with less well-known tales. For those such as us who arrive early a respectful hush reigns. As the morning warms, so does the volume.
He may have been a grouch; may have been the greatest Irish author. Perhaps he was the founding-point for thousands of tabloid articles keen to sensationalise one's private life. No bon-mot is adequate for Oscar: he now, as ever did, speaks for himself.
Always wanted to see Pere Lachaise... very cool. Love how over the top and garish the Garnier Oprea House is. No one did cluttered excess quite like the Renaissance :)
ReplyDeleteWe had our first card night without on the weekend buddy. While Tim Priest valiantly stepped up to the plate as a forth, you were still sorely missed!