Children's burial ground in Cogaula

Twenty metres of hollow earth sits north of the field boundary in Cogaula, pretending to be a disused gravel pit while local memory insists it holds children. No cross, stone or marker breaks the grass, leaving the dead invisible and the living guessing about what darkness swallowed. The boy who ran there at noon may have played in a grave, not a pit, and joy in that chamber becomes knife-edge because love and loss share the same floor.