Giannis & Dimitra

What I remember first from Giannis and Dimitra's wedding are the details: the invitation laid out on a wooden table, white sugared almonds scattered around it, sprigs of gypsophila, a ring and a slim bracelet. Small things that say a lot about how they put their day together.

In one room, a grey suit with black lapels hung on the door of a mirrored wardrobe. The mirror caught a few balloons on the bed behind it, as if a small party had already started.

Somewhere in between, the groom put on his sunglasses, held the bouquet of white and blush peonies for a moment and gave me a grin that needs no caption.

Inside the church, under the frescoes and a big gold chandelier, the priest read from the Gospel. Giannis and Dimitra stood beside him wearing their wedding crowns, hand in hand.

Outside, on the paved square in front of the stone church with its marble steps, a red Ford with racing seats was parked. Dimitra leaned against the bonnet, her tulle skirt spilling down to the ground, while Giannis stood behind her, one hand in his pocket, smiling.