the people are dead, after the things are broken and scattered, taste and smell
alone, more fragile but more enduring, more unsubstantial, more persistent,
more faithful, remain poised a long time, like souls, remembering, waiting,
hoping, amid the ruins of all the rest; and bear unflinchingly, in the tiny and
almost impalpable drop of their essence, the vast structure of recollection.”
And here’s a shot of some lovely folks who came on Sunday.