graveyards

The mist flows like a river across the stones of gray and white the smell of decay is strong and the ever present sense of death is near.
It looks as old as ancient ruins.
There are no soundsto be found except the wind and small animals.
The air tastes stale like sand.
There is a distinct calming sense in the air.
When you are there you never feel alone.
The ground is ever changing, always being dug up and put back.
The air smells fresh like your in a giant forest.
The trees near by are always dead or dieing.
The mist never seems to ever go away.
Wind plays tricks on you and makes you think there is someone talking to you.
The cold gray and white stones are always falling apart.
The grass is always too tall to read the bottom of the stones.
The wind slowly over time eats at the many stones on the hill.
The dead are always present.