Much of my fascinatination with and appreciation for old cemeteries begins with my fondness for decay. Never mind what's happening below the grass, it's the effects of time and weather on the stones that appeal to me. These stones are testament to the souls of the departed and were meant to be a small, lasting monument to time spent walking this planet, but even stone isn't forever. The Japanese aesthetic "wabi-sabi" holds in esteem the imperfect, impermanent, and incomplete; and it describes my admiration for the perfectly imperfect. The lichen growing on a cracked tombstone with hand carved script from a bygone era, unkempt grass surrounding stones in a forgotten cemetry, and vines tugging on an old crypt all tell a story of inexorable transition.