When I was a little girl my uncle was caretaker of a cemetery. He and his family lived in a two story house situated no more than a stone's throw from a mausoleum similar to the one in your photo. My cousins and I played among the headstone after the gates were locked to the public for the evening. Early on we picniced with our dolls. Eventually we were too old to be seen with dolls, so we walked together and told each other lies and stories. Your photo brings all those sweet memories back to me. The dead never gave me reason to fear them, it's the living that seem to cause of most bad dreams.