Remaking
Walking through these landscapes brings death to the scale and pace of my body. They are labyrinths of meditation. They give me an outlet for grief. I find comfort in the practice of philosophy, and self-reflection. I have no memories tied that can trigger me, but I still experience the site’s traumas on a tangent.
To walk through the cemetery is like reading an abstract book of human stories. Every grave marker is a page, many illegible and blank. Each plot section is a chapter composed of complex networks of relationships. It is a text that is constantly being added to and rewritten. To walk through the cemetery, one adds a new trace, a new layer.
Walking through these landscapes brings death to the scale and pace of my body. They are labyrinths of meditation. They give me an outlet for grief. I find comfort in the practice of philosophy, and self-reflection. I have no memories tied that can trigger me, but I still experience the site’s traumas on a tangent.
To walk through the cemetery is like reading an abstract book of human stories. Every grave marker is a page, many illegible and blank. Each plot section is a chapter composed of complex networks of relationships. It is a text that is constantly being added to and rewritten. To walk through the cemetery, one adds a new trace, a new layer.