I talked to Krystin this morning – across the world in Korea. Yellow light shone in through my window. Tilted away from the sun, she sat in front of windows filled with the dark of night, punctuated by the candle glows of the city down below her apartment.

She told me that she and Ken have been exploring a lush wilderness behind their house – a mountain with paths, remote villages and blossoming trees. The mountain is part of the Gumjeong Range, but she doesn’t know the name of this particular peak.

They’ve been wandering through the pine trees, cherry blossom trees, purple azaleas, and ferns.
They have come upon a mystery. Scattered throughout the woods stand circular mounds of grass, lined by bricks and marked by stones carved in Korean letters. Some are clustered together, but others stand all alone.

I think they are ancient tumuli: graves of ancestors (the singular is tumulus, Latin for mound or barrow). What a beautiful place to be buried – hidden in a quiet forest to be discovered by wanderers.

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