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WEDDINGS
I have been living in Los Angeles for more than twenty years now. And ever since I was a kid, I remember always passing by this bridge in Pasadena, and thinking what it actually looks like up close. But never once have I set foot on it until Matt and Clarissa’s wedding. Fun Fact: this bridge is also known to locals as the “Suicide Bridge”.
We were in a bustling airport full of people, and not an ounce of nervousness befell onto their faces. There is this familar feeling of amorousness between Lydia and Tessa as they were standing in front of my camera. I know that feeling. It’s the feeling of being in unison. That feeling of whatever happens, it ll be okay. Because I know I am with you.
With an amazing amount of fervor, Oksana and Aaron, once again, braved the cold embrace of the ocean and boldly climbed on top of the rock. “Im just waiting for a good wave, guys! Just hold that kiss!”, I yelled. I can tell they were cold.
Danny and Jordan’s house were brimming with activity. Their dinner table that once served as a place to eat has become an arts and crafts workshop of sorts. All the bridesmaids are pitching in and doing their part. Building makeshift cupcake holders made from wood and wineglasses, arranging wedding invitations printed on hand fans, and wrapping twine around glass vases that will serve as the table centerpieces.
I still remember Jun telling me he was never going to cry during the wedding. I remember it clearly. We were at Panera Bread, having dinner, talking over last minute details before their wedding day. In his mind there was no doubt that he was going to cry. Why would he? He is a man. And a man never cries.
It took us awhile before we came across the site. A 75-foot tall structure made of marble with sculpted figures outlining the walls. It is a burial site dedicated to the 15 pioneers of aviation. A shrine erected to honor the dearly departed. Damaris, at first, was against the idea of shooting here, since her grandfather is buried somewhere near this very same place.
I was in the common room, setting up my equipment when I heard a guitar being strummed gently in the other room. As a music lover and a guitar enthusiast myself, I’m usually quick at dropping whatever I’m doing everytime I hear someone playing the guitar. Either to see what kind of guitar they play or start a conversation to see if we both listen to the same artists.
“I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.” — Pablo Neruda (100 Love Sonnets: Cien sonetos de amor)
