One day in the sleeping neighborhood of Melbourne

A regular place for my touring in Melbourne is the city's new-age semitic From childhood I came to hear stories about the graveyard. But when I saw these semicirs I never felt any grief. Recently I have come here to see two semesters. One is the Melbourne General Cemetery, the other is the Springval Botanical Semester, about 30 kilometers away from the city center. The first one is a little corrosive, around the time of the 1800s or later times, the grave situation of the people of the grave is near. And the next is a botanical garden decorated with large-size cemeteries. There are different places for people of different religions.

I look around every grave and try to read epitaph. There are no people but they have names. I have seen many people in the same grave. Most surprised when I saw that the husband might have died 50 years ago, his wife was buried and her husband's grave. I was wondering how this man was alone with the rest of the 50 years of losing a partner, and if there is a desire to get another partner, there is no issue here. Again, in the five-six months of the death of a partner, another died - both are sleeping in the same grave! What an eternal love! These are not really live without a single person, it just does not happen in the movie, then the matter!
Bad, where I saw the death of siblings or partner couples is the same. They left the earth at the same time in an accident. Those who have gone, they are probably together in the grave but I was wondering what a tragic memorial for others in their family! On the same day, sadly losing family to both of them
Children's grave saw the statue of the statue - their parents wrote Epiphate on the grave, they will not cry in the gut of grief, people who are not in the world may not be there in the world.

I saw some graves, 1855 or even earlier - this century-old people are my other attraction. I try to think and stand in front of their graves, their lives, happiness, sorrow, and personal life. A man who gives flowers to his grave and does not seem to be alive. I found this grassy grass and gave it to the ancient graves and I thought I knew what was in the grave, I imagine, the voice of the face, the voice of the voice. Ah! Why did not I meet him!
Like many people still come to the family to give flowers to their graves. East Asians, I saw the earthly food on the tomb, going through lanterns too. The man in the grave also had the fear of darkness like me! In the grave of a Vietnamese man, I think pizza-pizzeria pizza was very much eaten. Many may laugh at seeing their workmates and I wonder how they still feel as they are dead. After so many years after coming to see the favorite food, the favorite flowers, the favorite drinks came.

To me such semitrants are like a huge novel. Many characters Each story is different from the ages, different ages, different times. I read their epitaph and imagine in my mind that I was watching a live film, that such a man was born on this date, grew up, died on this date. Who is his partner in the middle, children and grandchildren who are hollow (who gave names to those who remembered him, he used this epitaph).
I came to the dead man's house and realized that no one completely moves away from life even after death; he lies in the heart of someone even by lying under a rock. Even a stranger and a little bit of thinking about him, as I do in Melbourne, go to the different semester. Do not be good-looking people! see you again.