This post is Part 1 of a 3-part series. Read Part 1 – Read Part 2 – Read Part 3

As engaged couples so often do, Veronica and Omar got married. Early in wedding day, I became infatuated with Veronica’s little nephew, the tiny guy in fancy dress that you see in the first photo below. I spent a lot of the getting ready portion of the wedding day following him around, expressing my love for him in the fashion that means so much to toddlers: supporting his wobbly explorations of the girls-getting-ready room while gently protecting him from falls/injuries/dangerous areas. I was so engrossed in this budding friendship that I almost missed the crucial final stages of the donning of the wedding dress. I snapped back into Photographer Mode just in time.

But seriously, isn’t he the cutest little man in his bowtie? So debonair!

This post is part 2 of a 3-part series. Read part 1 – Read part 2 – Read part 3

While this huge batch of photos is loading, let’s have a few more words from Pablo Neruda.

___________

Take bread away from me, if you wish,
take air away, but
do not take from me your laughter.

Do not take away the rose,
the lance flower that you pluck,
the water that suddenly
bursts forth in joy,
the sudden wave
of silver born in you.

My struggle is harsh and I come back
with eyes tired
at times from having seen
the unchanging earth,
but when your laughter enters
it rises to the sky seeking me
and it opens for me all
the doors of life.

My love, in the darkest
hour your laughter
opens, and if suddenly
you see my blood staining
the stones of the street,
laugh, because your laughter
will be for my hands
like a fresh sword.

Next to the sea in the autumn,
your laughter must raise
its foamy cascade,
and in the spring, love,
I want your laughter like
the flower I was waiting for,
the blue flower, the rose
of my echoing country.

Laugh at the night,
at the day, at the moon,
laugh at the twisted
streets of the island,
laugh at this clumsy
boy who loves you,
but when I open
my eyes and close them,
when my steps go,
when my steps return,
deny me bread, air,
light, spring,
but never your laughter
for I would die.