The tree is on the corner of Harmony Boulevard and Ravinia Road — they give the streets silly names in the graveyard.
I read a few more of the names into the recorder I brought with me that ride day in July, but I couldn’t find the good recorder that morning. What tape I have is minutes of crackling and wind. I make out odd words like “pine cones,” “birds,” “Symphony Shores” and “I ask why, but HUSBAND Harry Davies (1880-1949) won’t answer.”
I’m typing this in October and I can’t remember why I found the graveyard so loving. » Read the rest of this entry «
