I grew up next to a graveyard. As a child the calm darkness made me uncomfortable – my bedroom looked out over the graveyard and often I found myself at night pressed against my bedroom window. I stared at the flickering candle lights and the shadows they threw and imagined things climbing out of graves.
As a teenager that fear faded. The graveyard was the only green area in the neighborhood and until the security was tightened it actually became our smoke-and-meet spot, a place where our parents would never look for us.
Since then graveyards seem to me more like parks. I think of them as places where I can go to relax and read a book without disturbance. There are always pretty flowers around.
I got my job offer before I even graduated. I didn’t have much time to go apartment hunting. So I wouldn’t say that I particularly looked for an apartment near a graveyard, but I certainly didn’t mind it either. Continue reading