When I was little, my family’s main aim of walks, were trips to the cemetery. By the numbers of graves and names on them one could think I have really big family. Unfortunately I didn’t make it to meet any of them as they died just before or not very long after I was born. Despite that, I know how did they look like or what were they like.
For example I know that Ernest my Grandad was a big fan of vehicles and and quite an edgy person, and his brother – uncle John was a boozer but deep inside he was very nice guy. All I know about them, comes from the story telling by other members of my family.
For me most of them are the empty shells, they are just random people with anecdotes in the background. Despite that I know who is who, their faces are strange to me, They merge into each other, until they become meaningless and the only thing that counts is their presence.