Rattle His Bones, Over the Stones

She wanted to visit some famous writer’s grave.

So we walked up this winding road behind the church and spent the morning moving awkwardly between tombstones, trying not no step where the bodies might lay.

We turned a corner, around a huge monument and found ourselves at a burial. Two gawky tourists in shorts and bulging bags amongst the still, black clad creatures, staring at the ground. They never made a sound, but sidestepped, shuffled together so that we could stand with them.

After the ceremony, one by one, they shook our hands. And then headed back to the village.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s