Forty-four years ago today Jim Morrison broke on through for the final time. And in a coincidence that’s probably only entertaining to me, Franz Kafka would have been 132 today. Two that were taken from us much too soon.
I took this snap of his grave at the Cimetiere Pere Lachaise in Paris, the world’s most visited cemetery, in spring of 2011. It was a lot less trashed than it was during a couple previous visits. To be honest I wasn’t sure if I preferred the cleaned up version of his make-shift temple. Minus that gritty edge –the bottles of booze, the cigarette butts, broken roach clips, remnants of small bonfires– something vital was missing. It does smell much better these days.