Beauty in the luscious green grass. The stone graves. The tall trees. It is a bright, sunny day--one that transforms what can be seen as a pessimistic and weeping like site to a calm and soothing one. There are clouds in the sky, but not those that ruin the warmth the bright star in the sky brings unto those beneath it. The breeze has so perfectly paired with the weather, creating a comforting coolness balanced with the heat of the sun. It feels as if one has come out of an air-conditioned room to feel the energy of the sun stream through one's own body; constantly going back and forth between the cycles of a cool breeze and a glowing sun. I see an elderly woman talking to herself; rather, talking to those that have past and whose names have been ingrained onto their personal slabs. She descends, lowering the pot full of vibrant flowers into the ground. It seems as though the curved, sharp mountains behind blankets those she talks to as they sleep. It soothes me to perceive the care in which one still has for those whose lives have ended. Quietly.