This morning I took a walk in the woods behind the cemetery. It was quiet, I could see that someone lives on the bank of the creek. I could not bring myself to take pictures of this “home: with out permission, it seemed like and invasion of privacy. But I wonder what about this place, the back side of a cemetery makes this person feel connected to this spot. I could see they had made their own memorials out of discarded items from the cemetery. This line of cement made me think of the word connected, and so many other things make me realize we are all connected in some fashion. By our love for art, our beliefs, our humanity, our wanting a place to belong, even if it is only a rug and a few odds and ends by the creek bank.