instead of going to church on easter, I went to the cemetery.

it was, in fact, kind of an accident. I hadn't made any deliberate plans to visit dead people.
but then my wanderings brought me to the back entrance of the cimetière du montparnasse.








jim morrison is buried in paris, of course, at père lachaise.
but I didn't go all the way to paris to visit a bunch of american musicians.

I'm not sure what's up with that sippy cup -- a little disturbing, considering
some of gainsbourg's songs. then again, he was all about the disturbing.








the st-saëans family mausoleum is impossible to see from the path.
I had to climb over a number of gravestones to get to it.

camille, who of course gave us the premier zoological fantasy
of romantic (or any) music, is tucked in the back corner.







inside, la musique française -- I guess a visitor left it there just to clear
up any confusion about why we should care about this particular tomb.








most of the tombs were closed, doors and gates locked so that the stained glass inside
was visible only in tiny carved-out slivers, protected by the husks of dead flowers.








a lot of the windows had blue glass, which made the tombs glow eerily.
it made me imagine that aliens had come to abuct the buried bodies.








all in all, it was one of the most iridescently colorful cemeteries I've ever seen.








this particular flora looked like it was sympathizing a little too much with the occupants of the grave.








alive is good.








before I saw this gravestone, I had no idea that simone de beauvoir's life overlapped with mine.








I thought this was an unusual headstone...








...until I saw this one.

it almost makes me want to rethink my own anti-burial ideas.








tortured much?








resting place(s).














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