We hope to never grow to lose the inspiration in the smallest and simplest of things. We hope never to lose the magic in sunsets or ever laugh less. We hope always be able to leave a space for magic to happen.

And when she walked holding wild flowers in her hands the world stood still. For these few seconds, minutes, hours, days or years the world belonged to her. A day like no other. A day of no necessities, or compromises. Her wedding day!

And he, the soul within this magic. It was all becoming inexplicably connected, the location, the people, the ruins behind us, the priest, the people, the appropriateness of moments, of synchronicity, the rain that spared to spoil the dream, just for that one day, and the Sea. Its always the sea. That was so close to perfection.

Someone has to tell these tales. Someone needs to show these bits of overlapping narrative. Someone has to walk a mile in their shoes… someone has to care. And there is soul in all of that. We often tell a tale that takes up residence in someones soul, endlessly driving, transforming or shaping images to memories to magic. And this is our gift.