The institute''s official work day ended around 4:00 PM, and on my way back to the dorms, I preferred to take that dark, damp road that separates the institute building from a cemetery that towers above it with a sense of death and dread. It''s a road few others have taken.If you raise your head a little higher, you''ll see gravestones above a crumbling retaining wall, in a place that once allowed a dead person to escape with his grave for a while, outside the arena where he wrestled with his sins.I don''t know if this is the case, or if mercy has been bestowed upon him, expanding his resting place to alleviate his suffering. But I do know that with each passing, I have an appointment with a theatrical scene, starring a rat, sneaking into the grave through a den, disappearing only to reappear with another passing. I don''t know if he''s trading in the contents of the grave, or if he''s bringing the latest political news from the world to the buried.