Chapter 367 Six barren grass concealed, washed by rain and dew

In the Pere Lachaise cemetery, next to the ordinary graves, far away from the elegant area of ​​​​the cemetery, far from those strange and ugly tombs that show the fashion of the afterlife in front of eternity, in a remote corner, Leaning against an old wall, under a large metasequoia creeping with morning glory, among thatch and moss, there is a stone slab. Like other stone slabs, this stone slab has peeled off spots and faded over time. Mildew, moss, and bird droppings.The rain makes it green, the air makes it black.It is not beside any road, and people do not like to come here, because the weeds are so high that they soak their feet immediately.When the sun shines a little, geckos appear, wild oats rustle all around, and cardinals sing in the trees in spring.

The stone slab was bare, and the stone-cutters only thought that it was needed for the tombstone, and did not consider other aspects except making it long and wide enough to cover a person. There is no name on it. But many years ago, a hand wrote four lines of poetry on it with a pencil, and it has gradually disappeared under the washing of rain, dew and dust, and it has probably disappeared today: