In Paris, there is this place named The Catacombs.

It lies far beneath the city, far beneath the metro line. It is crazy. It is scary. It is insane. In it, there are the bones of five to six million people. Starting from the late 18th century, lacking in space to put corpses, bodies of people who could not afford proper burials were moved from the overflowing charnel houses and just dumped there. The bones are piled around in heaps that line the walls. Some of the bones are in gigantic stacks. Some bones are fashioned into macabre configurations: A cross made from femurs, a real jolly roger, a heart with an arrow through it.

And all the while, as I wandered through the horrible place, I kept wondering about these people's families.