There is no one visiting loved ones today, the day is cold enough to chill bones in the grave. The only sound comes from the wind blowing through the trees and disturbing the fallen leaves, and all around all I can see are the trees, tombstones, and low income homes. I feel at peace in this place with those who have already found it, not because of their presence but rather by the environment that surrounds them. The murmor of the highway in the invisible distance is reminiscent of the motion of the ocean, which speaks its own peace in what lies beneath the turbulance. Some how the sound of peace for those put to rest beneath this east Austin earth has the same significance, except that it is limited by the harsh reality brought by a barb wired fence. Despite the sound of the wind and the highway, the scene still seems serene and silent, which is interupted slightly when a car passes by. Through the bare limbs I can make out the Austin skyline and new baseball stadium, and I'm brought back to my position in this east Austin neighborhood. The architecture of the cemetary is sparse, with only a brick utility building from the early 1800's and a number of classical looking mausoleums; but the numerous gravestones, varying in size, shape, and color, give the site a unique architectural character. The gravel roads wind around in figure eights, and are there more for maintainence rather than convenience of visitors, who would have to walk only an eighth of a mile from one end to the other, and realistically only half that distance since the entrance from Comal is at near center. The trees along the main, central, linear roadway are cut away to frame a view of the Texas capitol building, which is the only other building you could see in summer and spring. This place has an interesting quality because it is a site that is inhabitted by the dead but serves the living.