19 hours ago
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Cemeteries in Bohemia are like gardens. The graves are covered with grass and colourful flowers. Modest tombstones are lost in the greenery. *When the sun goes down, the cemetery sparkles with tiny candles. It is as though the dead are dancing at a children's ball. Yes, a children's ball, because the dead are as innocent as children. No matter how brutal life becomes, peace always reigns in the cemetery.
The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera, p. 104
(* but here the sun doesn't go down, for now)