Tell me what tomb you like and I may tell you who you are. Colored or minimalist, rococo or a piece of stone on the bare ground, every individual, every people, every culture in its celebration of the dead reveals with this breathless, and in some ways pathetic, search for eternity slumbering in all of us a different worldview. A desire to escape the anonymity that in Europe reaches its highest expression in a sort of Spoon River hidden in a corner of Romania. The colorful wooden crosses Sapanta with sketches of peasant life flourish with funny poems on the life of the deceased and his human weaknesses. The coasts of Ireland and Scotland, the ancient Celtic world, are scattered with ancient crosses corroded from a not forgiving weather, in a silence broken only by the rustle of the wind. Almost graphic in their minimalism are the Islamic cemeteries, simple stone chips embedded in the bare earth. Elsewhere cemeteries remind communities vanished, as the Jewish cemeteries in Prague and Moravia with layers of superimposed tombs to address the lack of space in the ghettos. Tragic in their obsessive search order are the military cemeteries of the D-Day, like the US cemetery of Colleville in Normandy. More than immortality, the Maya of Yucatan like to rest in a world full of colors. No coincidence that in Mexico, where the Dia de Muertos is an orgy that celebrates the surrealist Death rather than souls.