Anne Bronte, Bronte, Cimetière du Père-Lachaise, Edinburgh, grave, graveyard, Greyfriars, Halifax, Hólavallagarður, Holavellir, Iceland, Jim Morrison, kirkyard, London, Nova Scotia, Old Burying Hill, Oscar Wilde, Paris, Père Lachaise Cemetery, Postman's Park, Prague, Reykjavik, Scarborough, tomb
The Old Burying Hill in Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada.
Most people think my fascination with graveyards has something to do with my being morbid, a previous life as a goth, (ok I was, and still am in a way), or somehow have a Twilight obsession. Ugh, no, nothing could be further from the truth, except for the middle part. No, I’m simply a history geek. I love looking at all the stones, wondering, imagining the lives of all those people that lived before. Imagining their loves, lives, dreams.
Old tombstone’s interest me the most, modern stones seem an insult to the recently deceased, nothing is there other than a name and a date to distinguish them from the other souls. You’re just another brick in the wall.
The Old Jewish Cemetery in Prague, Czech Republic.
Greyfriars Kirkyard, Edinburgh, Scotland.
Hólavallagarður Cemetery in Reykjavik, Iceland.
A few stones put aside in Postman’s Park, London, UK
Of course, if you venture into enough cemeteries you’re sure to come across a few stones bearing familiar names.
Below lie, Jim Morrison, Oscar Wilde in the Père Lachaise cemetery, Paris, France. Anne Bronte in a cemetery/car park, (park and die?), in Scarborough, UK.