People all over the world are dying to get in to cemeteries, to graves, to mausoleums. Their bones are buried, their ashes encased, their lives summarised in the dash between two dates. Their epitaphs, their choice of grave marker, their obituary, all tell a story. Cemeteries are museums of life often overlooked, frequently ignored. When I travel, I travel to meet the living and to pay my respects to the dead. These are my stories.
In the village of Dublin in Sierra Leone sits an old, old cemetery. Like many cemeteries in this part of the world, the headstones have fallen, choked by a jungle…
