In the outskirts of a little town in southern England lies a cemetery. It's a beautiful cemetery with tall, proud trees and beautiful rosebeds along little paths of gravel. Here is my home. Here I spend my days, alone and unseen. In the center of the cemetery, right in the middle , where the sun shines all day and the sweet smell of roses is almost more than you can bear, is a little angel made of marble. He holds out his hands like he's praying to God and all his children in heaven to take...