Hidden cemeteries flank former state-run hospitals, jails and schools. They are filled with markers made of steel and concrete that indicate the locations of anonymous individuals unclaimed by loving others.
In the absence of eulogies, an erasure occurs. Identities are replaced and narratives are sanitized; roles are reassigned and responsibility expunged. Once, these people were individuals. Now, they have become just numbers nestled into dimly lit forests and grassy lots edged by highways.
Slowly, the earth is consuming these, marking the individuals' final disappearance from our world.