As I strolled through what I thought was an empty section of the Socorro Cemetery, I realized that the grave markers had disappeared and with each step I was sinking into old graves. I’m kind of a stomper when I walk, so I made an effort to step lightly so as to avoid being knee-deep in someone’s final resting place.
Closer to the front of the cemetery, a very large prickly pear was growing out of a grave marked only with a slender metal stake with the number 19 on it.
I noticed that the sun was shining brightly when I turned to face the grave, so I took several shots to make use of the heavy lens flare. The last shot I got was this one, which was admittedly overexposed a bit. I worked on that in picnik.com and also employed a faded border to highlight the color of the flare.
Of course, as I was doing this technical stuff, I was once again waxing poetic about the cactus being nourished by the remains of the person below ground. Being an atheist, it rather depressed me. Here you go living your life, you croak, and then your body is broken down into its mineral makeup so you can be cactus food.
Oh well. I guess a cactus has a right to live too. And, I’ve eaten plenty nopalito paddles in my time. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust? More like, cactus in my body, my body in a cactus.