One of the seven garden cemeteries of London, Abney Park, Stoke Newington, is gloriously green, peaceful and full of shade, dappled and dancing on the narrow, pine-strewn paths.
Overgrown and gnarled, tombstones are lost to the clutches of creeping ivy, birds twitter in the tall trees and peace pervades like a sigh of cooling, fresh air that tousles and arouses your living senses as you dally among the deceased.
Tucked away from the bustling and vibrant Church Street with its numerous cafes and beautiful, youthful and smiling faces, the cemetery is a wonderful contrast and a lovely, alternative way to escape the sun after a long, lazy Sunday breakfast.
Time stands still here, you can lose yourself to the thickets, brambles and crannies and each turn delights in curious sights, like this dilapidated assembly of stones, of death-strewn dominoes.
Peace indeed. There is nowhere quite else like a cemetery for that lulling, soporific sense that lingers between the sound of your heartbeat and the silence of those sleeping forever more.