.as i once explained the concept of a seasonal diet to a pair of english pensioners, citing the Essex strawberry harvest, counter the Spanish winter imports... certain graveyards, in winter, can unnecessarily compete with museums, stressed as focal points during summer.

who is here,
to, expect...
comfortable?

i sacrifice the
aspect of museum,
in order,
to find a second tier
of peace...
within the confines
of cemeteries'
exfoliation
of statues...

    weathered,
slightly hidden...
  in guise,
of half living, half dead...
yet all the more:
ever watchful,
that persistent...
      prosecutor stature...
with death...
the sole "ambiguity"
of a...
    jury;
         a jury...
with a persona non grata?!
mon deus!
              but one answer:
je suis mort!

since?
it is really hard.. to re-appreciate revisiting
museums at this point...
whatever the ancient in modern
terms focus for the pre-Byzantine
marble...

      the open air extravaganza
of statues in a Slavic cemetery?

  weathered, chiseled by a shyness?
teased out of existence?
                 primordial in a focus
of being haunted?!
  well... museums have nothing to offer,
given this fleshed out
excavation.