They were sitting on this bench, lost in their conversations. Their legs crossed, her back straight, her right ankle elegantly hooked behind the left one. He was leaning over her, slightly hunched.
Her red coat with white hat and silver flats was a statement of confidence. He looked more sober in that checked jacket and sporty shoes, reading glasses around his neck.
They looked at each other sometimes, and sometimes they looked at the sea. Their hand movements were slow and graceful.
They didn’t care about people walking on the promenade behind them, about us taking their timeless picture, about the world passing by absentmindedly.
Their eyes and thoughts were only for the sea, and each other’s voices. The same voices they had known for years, changing over time—getting deeper and deeper like the wrinkles on their faces.
After what might have been a lifetime together they’re still there, in front of the sea, looking forward to the next conversation, a fresh emotion, sharing new thoughts and remembering old ones, their love story. Loving each other.
As I’m watching them, I wish one and one thing only: to get there. One day, 60 years from now, I want to leave my house, lean on Alex’s arm, sit on a bench in front of the sea, and talk. About everything or nothing. And share. Everything and nothing. But forever and always together.
This is my lucky picture.
Tell me what you think
Did you like it? Do you agree or disagree? I'd love to hear from you.