Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses...– Oscar Wilde (via rippedjeansandshattereddreams)
There’s something about a car-ride home from the cemetery. It’s as if you are seeing the world for the first time in your life. You notice the vibrancy in the colour of the trees, their shapes painting stencils against the soft-blue sky. An elderly woman briskly walks her dog along the path. The snapping cold quickening their pace. Wet eyelashes stick. Limited conversation....