Awkwardly smiling, a chemist at a waste site is telling me about industrially incinerating corpses. We are crammed into a claustrophobic funnel at the entry point to a rattling shed with high-vis-jacketed workers scurrying to and fro.
The air smells oily and mechanical. With our voices lowered, the conversation is not flowing smoothly. There is a slightly uncomfortable atmosphere, perhaps indicating certain things on our minds that aren’t being said. Passing the waste storage area on my way out, I nervously scan the stacked container rows for the yellow drums which sometimes contain human remains.
