Places Don’t Get to Decide How They Will Be Remembered

This picturesque grove. These ancient white oaks and their shady, leafy canopies. The playful sunlight dapples the leaves and the hungry chloroplasts engulfing the photons. The fluttering birds. The sun-kissed flowers. The babbling brook. The patch of freshly-dug earth in the middle. The headstone.

A picture-perfect grove, a graveyard.

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