No collapswashing

It looked like snow under water: white, endless, and still. The reef, my friend Lisbeth said, was “the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.” For a second, I almost agreed. Then, I stared at it for a long time before replying. She wasn’t wrong about its beauty. But she was also showing me death. Bleached coral isn’t a kind of coral. It’s the moment just after the funeral, what’s left when life is gone. A cathedral of bone-white skeletons stretching over an empire of calcified death. From above, it glows like marble. Up close, it’s a graveyard.

Across the world, resting places for the dearly departed are running out of space: and it’s spelling bad news for the environment. In many countries, splashing the cash to secure a traditional grave in commercial cemeteries and columbaria (urn storage buildings) can be something of a status symbol, not least because of the increasingly limited real estate available for grave sites.