Sitting on the hard, flaking wooden bench; it can feel unsettling to sit for long stretches of time…. at least for a bystander. From my point of view, it’s a cozy safe place to come and reflect, write or read; surrounded by the icy autumn air that comes and goes in strokes across the land, making the place feel constant, and fresh. Sitting there, I hear the crinkling of leaves embedded in the gravel as people pass by; together with the faint sound of traffic nearby. Even if my fingertips sense an icy sting, my mind is calm as the fresh air fills my lungs, making me feel spacious. 

I often come to this place, surrounded by the trees, florals, and sometimes, candles placed upon stone with love imbedded in grief. At times, I find myself staring at the personalized markings, and decorations around the stones. It is interesting to ponder over how you would represent someone’s soul in such a limited way. If I ever had a stone in reminiscence of my passing I would want it to be painted with many colours, different shades in each stroke that could only be understood after pacing a few steps back. There would grow many flowers around it, lots, and lots of life, making it lovely; with an occasional light source of a candle from a dear friend or family member… but I digress.  

Looking out upon the scenery, it is a sight for sore eyes where the trees create a framework for my vision to present the reflective canal that works in unison with the sky. If you come here during the sunset, you can see a beautiful orange-pink-like sky that fills you up like a nice warm beverage. It makes you feel warm in an otherwise chilling place, but the most favorable thing about this place is the openness of it all. 

For some reason, 

                the environment feels big, and open, 

                                                           an endless abyss stretching out for eternity,

                                                                                                       a dazzling light of infinity just for me.

At times, when I have been in a room long enough, or feel particularly anxious, I can see the space around me in a different way. The world seems to have altered, as my vision zooms out, as walls cave in, and my body grows in size; almost as if I’ve drank one of Alice’s bottles, and now must face the grave consequences. That is why the openness of this space is very comforting to me. When the furniture starts to grow at home, and the ceiling feels an inkling to close; I will just pop through one of the doors, and enter the graveyard, my wonderland.