It’s late October, but the sun beats down on my bare head with the ferocity of an August heat wave. I stand at the entrance of Les Alyscamps, Elisii Campi, the Elysian Fields. It is the final resting place of Roman dead in Arles in the South of France. A cloying floral scent weighs heavily in my throat; it''s the scent of thousands of funerals over thousands of years. Tall straight trees line the walkway like sentinels or prison bars. I’m alone at the gates to the great necropolis in the open air, but I feel suffocated.
Once upon a time, thousands of bodies were lined up and stacked in the sto...
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