La Pere Lachaise Cemetery

We slept in until noon like a group of teenagers.

After a slow homecooked breakfast at 1pm, we hit the Pere Lachaise cemetery, where Oscar Wilde, Gertrude Stein and Jim Morrison and other luminaries lay in eternal sleep.  Lovely park-turned-cemetery.  It was a chilly gray day, a blessing after weeks of that hot soupy mess called Brooklyn.

Levi was into the black crows that sat on top of graves; I was into the crooked paths and the moss that covered some tombstones and Douglas took notice of the names and years each person lived.  

Is it strange to say we all took delight in the cemetery?