Sacred Haven of Debauchery

Last summer, I was in a small town and went on an excursion. The tour started at night, at 3 a.m. (because it was a long drive, and the excursion was lengthy). As we drove, we passed a cemetery at dawn. At that moment, time seemed to slow down, and I had a good look at the cemetery. It was small, with very few graves, but what I remember most were the shadows cast by the tombstones and a crow sitting on one of them. As we drove past, it seemed to watch us. If I had the chance, I would have gotten out and walked around it. Its appearance made a strong impression on me; I immediately thought that at dawn, restless souls return to their graves.