MY SISTER DRESSED AS A BRIDESMAID 1920
Sir Cecil Beaton (1904 − 1980)
Media BLACK AND WHITE PHOTOGRAPHBritish Council Art Collection
The morning sky had the appearance of liquid copper on that day. White rose petals and grains of rice were falling on the ground as if they were snowflakes. It was a beautiful and mesmerizing vision. It was the day of my sister and my best friend’s wedding. So as you can see, I was just a spectator. That day was all about them.
Anyways, let me start from the beginning, if you please.
My name’s Jack Daniels. I’m 25, single and unemployed. At my age, most people in my family have already settled down and got at least two kids. I was fine with being that way, I really was. After all, I had my own place and the best guy in the whole wide world to share the rent with, Mark Peterson.
Mark and I met each other on a chilly November day, around fourteen years ago. At the time, we both lived in the suburbs and had a pretty typical American childhood. My 8-year-old sister was playing by the pool when she slipped, causing her to fall in the cold icy water. She’d have drowned if Mark hadn’t been there to save her. We have become inseparable ever since. I would’ve saved my sister Lily myself if I wasn’t playing those darn addictive Super Mario videogames.
Mark and I shared many things together. Our first tree house, our first car, our first house and even our first kiss. We were 15 and it was a clumsy, somewhat awkward kiss. But boy, did it feel right to me. For a brief second, I was at the top of the world. And there aren’t many people that can make you feel that way. Sadly, I guess Mark didn’t feel the same. He started dating Lily at a graduation party in our senior year. I swear I felt my heart slowly sinking. Maybe I’d be less bothered if it wasn’t for my sister. I’ll never know.
On that fine wedding day, both of them looked gorgeous. When I saw Lily getting out of the car, I couldn’t believe my eyes. She was wearing a white silk dress and I could spot her rosy cheeks under that thin veil adorned with white flowers. The bouquet she was holding was huge, covering almost half of her body. Mark was a lucky guy. Speaking of Mark, he was standing very still at the altar. He was wearing a black tuxedo, a white bowtie and for some weird reason, a tiny blue flower was hanging from his ear. He wouldn’t take his eyes off Lily. And as the church bells rang, a single tear ran down my face.
de Catarina Azevedo, 11º L (2012/2013)
Nota: Texto publicado com a autorização de Catarina Azevedo , do 11º L (2012/2013). Qualquer reprodução sem a sua autorização atenta contra os princípios dos direitos de autor.