vignette

Standing in front of the Royal Palace in Madrid.

Winter coldness.

The afternoon crowd of tourists milling in the park.

Clear light cascading over everything.

A man says: "Excuse me."

He has a weathered sun burnt continental face.

Laughter lines around the eyes.

He is proffering a photograph.

Probably a nuisance vendor or a pick pocket or both.

I move to hurry away.

He says: "Wait, please, it's okay."

I wait.

"I am from Greece," he says with an air of triumph.

He indicates the photograph in his hand.

The photograph shows a good looking young couple standing in front of the royal palace.

I don't recognise them but I know they're in love.

"This is me and my wife," explains the man beaming. "We were on our honeymoon here in Madrid 25 years ago. Today is the 25th anniversary of our wedding."

For the first time I notice a middle aged woman standing smiling behind him.

"We have come back to Madrid to celebrate our 25 years," the man says: "Will you take our photo today?"

He gives me a camera.

They pose just as they had posed on this very date a quarter of a century ago.

Still triumphantly, beamingly, Greekily, in love.

I take their photo.