Garden of Stone

There is something tragically beautiful about a graveyard.

Is it really already Wednesday night of the final week? It feels like it has been both a year and a day. I have learned so much about these people and yet I know nothing. We have seen so many locations and yet the surface of Ireland has not felt a scratch. I felt like I grew to know Pittsburgh fairly well in two weeks, but I am as clueless of Dublin as ever, at least by my own estimation. I hope to do another study abroad here for a more extended time at some point in my schooling.

This morning was our final class period before the grand presentations that define our class grade. In a repeat of the previous stage, I was very pleased with our slides, but we scrapped our old set and started anew. To be fair, it made a lot more sense to restart this time as we our presenting a different set of information, the external report instead of the business analysis, but I also decided to take some creative liberties. The theme of the slides is the blue and orange texts we are using for the app and a dark-light left-right gradient over pictures that I have taken. As the idea for ViewFinder came from my appreciation of photography, it seems fitting to have the final showing come from that same appreciation.

This afternoon we made an excursion to the Dublin Botanical Gardens. I have determined that I apparently have a very difficult time following itineraries. Much like the obelisk that drew me away from the Irish Museum of Modern Art, I saw a tower in the distance and decided to get as close to it as possible. Thus I ended up spending a few hours walking through Glasnevin Cemetery.


There is nothing quite like a graveyard to reflect that feeling of hourglass tipped or the burning idea of impermanence. The body from dust to dust, the headstone from rubble to rubble, a powerful reminder of our unimportant place in the worlds annals. Yet somehow it makes life that much more beautiful. This program is a once in a lifetime experience and here I am living it. Maybe I will never see Ireland’s shore again, maybe I won’t speak to anyone here ever again, but my memories will always be with me. Yes, from dust to dust, but from mind to eternity.

Maybe I did not see the beautiful flowers of the botanical gardens, but I saw a garden just as beautiful, just as temporal.