I thought I heard something. I looked up. Nothing. The air was heavy, oppressive in fact, blurry, could the air be blurry? The spirits hovered, as though dangling from the big old trees.
“Tom, did you see that?”
“I don’t know.” It was as though I had experimented with a slew of the same treatments as a teenager on drugs.
There was a living air about the grieving angel, grieving over the dead, as if its arms could really reach out and grab you if you weren’t careful.
Couldn’t resist sharing some of the necessaries of past and present.
Do you know where your 400 year old ancestors are buried?