This life was chosen once, in the distant past. This life offers a family, a kid, and work, and now it has led narrator to a graveyard. Perhaps cemetery job is a peaceful occupation in the shadows on an ancient, protective institution? No - the market economy has already ruined it all. The overzealous sexton guards workers, their mutual relationships are sour, and the short trips to the city cannot offer relief. Missus is not interested. The narrator erupts uncontrollably and hysterically in the irreligious, mechanical world. There is no freedom, and no gods, anymore. There are the ancient songs, though. There are tiny remnants of the mighty nature. The one who looks, finds friendship from flocks of crows, sparrows and ever-patient trees, all this while the people's world is alienated, broken and hostile to every living being. The short breaks give glimpses of time which is not measured. And the crooked humour.