At the gravesite
- This is the end, my only friend, the end. Of our elaborate plans, the end. Of everything that stands, the end... The lyrics come to mind as we stand next to the grave of Jim Morrison in the poetic Cimetière Père Lachaise. It's late afternoon and the last rays of the sun find their way around the gravestones, the pillars and monuments in all kind of shapes which comprise the largest cemetery in the city of Paris, where more than a million souls are put to rest. Pyramids, towering monuments, elaborate miniature chapels and beautifully carved lime and granite headstones display the history of death as we walk through the yard. Some could almost serve as inspiration for horror films like the one, where a pair of bare arms stretch up through the lid of a closed sarcophagus or the one, where a bronze corpse try to slither through the cra...