I’ve always loved the idea of hanging out
in graveyards, even at a young age. Maybe it was part of the chic goth
aesthetic I tried to adopt in my later years in high school, or it could just
be the sense of impending serenity I feel now. Either way, the draw to the
resting grounds of those who’d come before has always been a natural one.
But it was a draw that had gone stifled and
forgotten until now, swallowed up when the self-imposed powerlessness I felt in
my 20s took root