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A cemetery, a breathless whisper, a random photo. What do you see?

Those of you who read my blog know about my, shall we say, passion for cemeteries. You can read the post here if you missed it.

The photos in that post are from the necropolis in Glasgow, Scotland, which spreads itself over a hill just above Glasgow Cathedral. I am going to share another photo with you in a moment.

But first, a little exposition.

I climbed the hill to the necropolis on a cold, still May morning, stopping to take a photo of an interesting headstone. I was alone when I reached the top of the hill, alone in the city of the dead.

It was silent, an eerie silence, with low hanging clouds, and a murder of crows roosting on a long hedge just behind me.

Walking around, I took a few photos – very few. I felt as if I were intruding.

I returned to that hedge, looking at the stone monuments to death, when a breathless voice whispered in my ear. A female voice, speaking the lyrical Gaelic I had been hearing since my arrival in Glasgow.

I spun, and the cold presence whirled away from me as if it were dancing.

A second later, the crows flew up, cawing wildly, into the still, silent sky.

I took a fast walk back down the hill, cooled my heels and my hammering heart in the cathedral a good long while.

When I returned home, I processed the photos, and began to look through them. The single shot I took of a random headstone grabbed my attention.

And it has grabbed attention ever since. Everyone I show it to has seen – something, in the photo. Something that wasn’t there when I took it on that cold day.