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.
All Saints’ Day is one of my favourite days on the Budapest…
https://i0.wp.com/dyingtogetin.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/11/jewish.jpg?fit=800%2C600&ssl=1600800Mary Murphyhttps://dyingtogetin.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/07/dyingtogetin-300x115.pngMary Murphy2013-11-01 09:15:062018-07-24 09:12:31A day of remembrance in Budapest
One of the first things that struck me about Oslo was the amount…
https://i0.wp.com/dyingtogetin.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/08/Oslo.jpg?fit=800%2C588&ssl=1588800Mary Murphyhttps://dyingtogetin.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/07/dyingtogetin-300x115.pngMary Murphy2013-08-05 19:49:592018-07-24 09:21:37The grass on the Oslo side
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