Just a quick little note before I begin to ramble away: if these photographs offend you in any way, please be aware that that was not my intention and I am rather conscious of it. These photographs, as with all of those I have taken in sensitive areas (graveyards, churches etc.) were taken with permission.
"Arrête, c'est ici l'empire de la mort"
(Halt, this is the realm of Death)
Inscription above the entrance to les Catacombes.
After our little mishap with the trains, Mel and I ventured off to find the Catacombs. I mentioned in a previous post that I find it interesting how different cultures treat their deceased and visiting this underground storage of human remains was certainly along these lines. It's fascinating to think that each set of the thousands of bones in the Catacombs was a person, who lived a life a long time ago. They got up each day, ate food, drank water, breathed, loved, learnt. They lived. Now they are a tourist attraction. Their bones don't even rest together. They are used to create walls and tunnels. It is so strange to me to think of that. Morbid, maybe, but I have such a love of stories that I couldn't help but wonder at the stories of those I passed by in the Catacombs. Who were they? Were they loved? I hope they were.
Hi! I'm Louise. I am a writer, photographer, traveler, book fanatic and blogger. I love to post about my adventures and the little things I do that make life fun.
MARLEE'S INSTAGRAM: @marleethecat