Diane

 Keaton-

Outside the chapel, we walked behind a vintage black hearse to the mausoleum, where Grace’s simple green casket was draped with red roses. The grass was brown, the wilting palm trees slumped, and the little road winding its way through Hollywood Forever needed repaving. ‘The mausoleum’s skyhghts were missing sections of stained glass, and yet . . . there was something compelling in the disarray. It felt ike we were in a post-World War II Fellini film, gallivanting through the ruins. What is it about abandoned buildings and overgrown cemeteries? What is it about the beauty of collapse? Is it something more than meets the eye? Maybe. Is it beauty caressed by loss?