Battito di ciglia.
To the cemetery, we are a blink of an eye.
Highgate Cemetery holds time differently from anywhere else in London. Statues keep their faces while the living pass through them as a blur, mausoleums settle slowly under ivy and lichen, flowers appear at a grave one morning and are gone the next.
Everything here runs on a different clock: graves weathering over decades, tributes lasting a week. This series looks at those clocks running side by side, and at how little trace we, the passers-through, leave behind.
