Sep 24 2009

Autumn Rest

If I am buried when I die, I want my grave to say:

Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves.
And Immortality.
~ Emily Dickinson

Here’s another one from Kensal Green Cemetery:

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Sep 23 2009

Kensal Green Cemetery: Tagore

Crisp, but not cold, Autumn air filled our lungs as we strolled slowly through the cemetery on Sunday afternoon. The dirt paths were covered in crinkled leaves that crunched satisfyingly under our feet. Gravestones were spilt across the land in every direction.

K and I are crossing off a list of 100 things we want to do together and one of those things was to find the famous Bengali writer Rabindranath Tagore’s grandfather’s grave in Kensal Green Cemetery.

So we headed back to my old neighbourhood, passed under the gates to the peaceful resting place. We let our eyes roll over surnames and poetry, watching squirrels scurrying among death, birds perching on gravestones, ivy crisscrossing the engravings, flowers swirling their heads toward the sun. Saw a copy of The Power of Miracles abandoned among the leaves. A symbol of lost hope.

And we found the grave we were looking for, modest as expected.

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Jun 21 2009

Knew How to Seize the Day

Just across the way from Karl Marx’s resting place in Highgate Cemetery, I came across one of the most interesting stones. This is where Publisher Simon Gavron was buried. His wife, Martha Pichey, is a writer. Simon, who was the son of a millionaire, died four year ago at the age of 46, in Belsize Park Gardens after a fit due to natural causes.

Highgate