The beauty of the cemetery lays in its unpretentious nature , its modesty and in its ability to make all those within it seem equal. Light is penetrating through the leaves of the dense vegetation which gives the needed touch of color for this simplistic picture , the feeling of nothingness has infested the ear .
Even so , this is not a formula for hazard , its rather a formula for harmony , its the nothingness that clears your mind of fears and worries .
The old stones have the dust of decades or even centuries on them , wind blows on and on , through the narrow paths , through pots with withered flowers , through the broken mausoleum windows .
Overlooked by the rusty buildings of the industrial era , by the busy streets next by , by the trash from over the thick concrete fences . In this perfect picture of urban decay the grave stones try to rise above the cemetery , slowly invading the world of the living , not trying to intimidate but trying to get noticed in the same time. Like a dobrudjan from the valley , taking the risk , dead for the outsiders , alive in their self built universe , awkward for the industrialists , common for the simple ones .
To be feared for the stupid , to be researched for the intellectuals .
To be feared for the stupid , to be researched for the intellectuals .
In a hard to notice struggle for braking the walls from around , braking the sleep from within the rotten coffin . Beautiful white candles melted on the hard concrete surface of the tomb become the most symbolic grave ornament , the soldiers sleeping for wars yet to come and brides with black faces burn the grass above .
Like a game for some , like a life for some like a deathly circle for the majority . The rusty iron and the dirty glass of the mausoleums heat in the blazing temperatures , suffocating the ear within , infesting bodily miasma the open space around .
Burning concrete in the masks eternity's smell , burns the flesh off the already dried flowers , taking the color off the mourning sings . Splendid is this man made land for breathless bodies . Put in he center of urban chaos , put inside the world of the breathing but without its own ear .
Burning concrete in the masks eternity's smell , burns the flesh off the already dried flowers , taking the color off the mourning sings . Splendid is this man made land for breathless bodies . Put in he center of urban chaos , put inside the world of the breathing but without its own ear .
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