Cemeteries are strange places. They are quiet and empty yet they feel abundant and full of character. Even in death, we continue to exert our presence upon the land, to desire and make ourselves stand out among the trees and animals by erecting these faceless stones amidst wilder crowds. “I was here,” they say, “once a member of the living.” Even in death, the human ego seeks and pleads to the world, “don’t forget me.” But the trees and animals know better and laugh. They know that a tombstone among graves is just a stone among rocks.