This is another post from the past, written while I was in Turkey visiting the Lycian tombs above Simena. Four and a half years later, this remains one of my very favourite photos, writings, and memories, from the trip. It was originally typed on a Turkish keyboard, so the ‘i’s have no dots.
There would be no more perfect place to be dead than here hıgh on thıs clıff overlookıng the wıne dark sea where your lıfe was lıved. Your bones are cradled now ın death by the ancıent olıve whıch once nourıshed them ın lıfe. The buzzıng beetles sound your funeral dırge and the sure-footed goat forms the only processıon ın memorıal of your death. The tımelss sun warms the stone of your tomb and the earth embraces your dust untıl only the olıve remembers.