I am indeed that person in the hot pink fleece who was creeping around the cemetery this evening, taking photos. How a walk home from the library was punctuated by this strange side trip…pick a reason. I turn 40 this year. The past 10 months have been perforated by sudden, senseless deaths. The still histories of gravestones have always fascinated me. The beautiful language, grim storyline, and endless respiratory illnesses in The Raven’s Bride by Lenore Hart is etched into my subconscious this week. Also, I’m just a little weird. Here are some photos from my walk. Who knows how their images will turn up in my writing. Maybe they will spark an idea for you, too.