They seemed like small cities to her. Lush parks, beautiful buildings, statues and stonework. Or at least those of the famous and rich did. Those the temples praised.
Back in the corner were the unmarked ones. For the suicides, the criminals and the poor and unclaimed. The temples didn’t seem to care if they were marked or not. It’s really too bad. After all, those were the very ones historians wanted to know about.
So much land, art and greenery was meted out to the dead, when the poor were given garbage heaps and tenements. That were basically cardboard boxed pile on top of each other to the sky. She thought they were vying for stairs to the moon. Without the rockets they became obsessed with for a while. She was grateful cemeteries had been outlawed before her time.
In the mansions of the rich and famous dead, they had many ornaments and such beautiful coffins. When the poor went without beds or roofs over their heads. It was obscene to her. What could the dead possibly gain from these fineries? It just made her ill. She had thought her teachers had been lying about this, but here was the proof before her eyes. Such a social shame.


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