The northern wind of the city of Bion moved, whistling through the trees and sliding leaves one after another, trembling and drifting lazily through the soft morning sun's rays, and making shadows dance across the ground, shrinking and stretching long as they floated before landing gently on the dew grass.
Squirrels jumped, passing on the trunks and entering holes visible on the trees, as crows shifted and dived, their black feathers rustling as the wind threaded through old stone markers and iron-wrought crosses, stirring petals left on the concrete graves.
In the rows of the gravestones, people dressed in black outfits of all styles, holding hands as they walked, brushing their handkerchiefs on their cheeks. Tires rolled under black cars, halting them at the gate of the Bon Central Cemetery. Doors opened with muted thuds as the sun shone on the dark windows and reflected on the round torch-structure light on the metal walls of the cemetery.
