Late November, a rather gray day in Genoa with a temperature of 15 degrees.

No matter what you might think of this cemetery after visiting it, I believe you’ll never forget it. Of course, like any cemetery, it’s a place of the dead, but above all, it’s a place of intense emotion. Art under the open sky. Figures of mourning, but also figures depicting nudity. Splendor and morbid decay.

When I entered the cemetery that afternoon, I had hardly any idea what a variety of impressions awaited me. The friendly gentleman at the gate tried to explain a walking route to me. I thought I’d understood which paths to follow. However, I lost my bearings after just a few steps because around every corner, there was another path to discover. So I went from one spot to the next, and it wasn’t until I noticed that the grave lights were taking over that I tried to find my way back.

My walk back was brisk—for one thing, I was running late (the cemetery closes at 5:00 p.m.), but I also realized that I felt like I was the only visitor there. The feeling wasn’t scary, but it wasn’t particularly pleasant either. When I walked through the gate about 15 minutes late, the kind gentleman there said goodbye to me without a hint of impatience or annoyance. Buona sera