On the last evening (okay, afternoon) Lauriina wanted to visit the cemetery of Père-Lachaise. / I wasn't very excited at the beginning because Oscar Wilde's grave was renovated in the end of last year and all the written tributes from past decades are gone now. (I agree with Morrissey with this gravebusiness...) / And I also thought that it would be some frigging decade-taking end-of-the-world mission to find the grave. / Yeah right. At the gate there was a map where they had marked all "the celebrities". / "Emma, this is still a cemetery..." / "This way! Oscar, here we come!" /
We found the grave after a few minutes walk (it was kind of in the hindmost part.) / "That's a one damn ugly gravestone." / They had put a glass around it, so that people couldn't write to it anymore. People had kissed the glass, though. / "Well maybe I'll skip that part..." / "Will you kiss it now?" "Haven't got the nerve, I don't even have lipstick." "I can lend you." "...Well maybe I'll kiss then." / "Oh this is going to be such a lovely photo!" / It was awesome.
"If someone asks me what has been my best kiss, I'll definitely answer it was with a glass wall protecting Oscar Wilde's grave." Yes, I'm exactly that person who thinks it's cool to smooch the graves of dead playwright-dandies.