And then there was the day we stopped holding our breath walking past graveyards, figuring that ghostly possession would at least be interesting. All of those dead people probably had the answers to questions we'd never think to ask, and who were we to argue if they wanted to take a little ride around town? The astrolabes we'd implanted under our skin weren't giving us the sort of fix on the stars we were looking for, and there was something compelling about all those brown and crumbling headstones, something comforting in the words and numbers rubbed by time almost to nothing.
Under the Hagia Sophia they discovered under water some 800-year-old graves of canonized children. They're in mysterious tunnels 1,000 feet below tourist Istanbul, but history doesn't seem to have left us a record of just what all of those sainted children were doing down there. If Rome taught me anything it's that there are tunnels underneath everywhere, filled with secrets and mystery and the ponderous weight of the past.
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