In the evenings, the city cemetery is an oasis; a dedicated parcel of peace in an ever-growing bustle of humanity. The last of the suburban sacred. Painted with surrealistic sunset colors and cool irrigated air. I tighten my laces and breathe deeply before stepping into a perfect grid of measurable and maintained pavement. A paragon to pioneer planning that mirrors the parallel and perpendicular streets of the city. A flat sea of green with floating monoliths. Each monolith a life; part of a modern-day henge. Some of those lives touch mine. Amongst the dead that once shared the libraries, chapels and parks I now occupy, I am a part of my community and they are part of me. A cemetery is for the living.