Highgate cemetery is a perfect place for thinking. On a bright day, the sunlight beams through the canopy of seemingly ancient trees that tower above the gravestones and memorials scattered on the ground. The effect is wonderfully ethereal. The gloom of death is transformed into a place of memories and peace that transcends the city around.
Highgate is known as the resting place of poets, painters, authors, politicians and economists alike; some names stand out proudly whilst others fade into their moss-covered stones. The scalp of Karl Marx glints amidst bushy hair, his momentous form rising above surrounding stones. Despite the occasional attempt of graffiti to desecrate this monument, it’s very much the most impressive one.
Instead of following the main path that weaves through flowerbeds and neatly place stones, I like to explore the various labyrinthine passages that hide older and more unusual stones, strangled by ivy. The fallen leaves are still dappled by sunlight, whilst some crosses threaten to sink into the earth.
Highgate cemetery is a simple, beautiful resting place, where serenity and nature flourish.