Faces

Two years ago Spouse and I attended our own second wedding, courtesy of friends who had missed the first.
In their garden after the ceremony I learned how to climb into a child's swing without disturbing my finery and the traditional Indian dress I wore. My jewellery rattled as I soared. Spouse, in similarly exotic and complicated attire, sailed too.
Everybody was surprised when a flash streaked across the garden; I thought at first that the sun had snagged one of my bracelets.
Our friends' new neighbours were entertaining their own guests at a simultaneous outdoor gathering and one of the visitors, lacking a healthy measure of stealth and subtlety, captured an unsolicited image. I was particularly perturbed by the fact that nobody offered a smile over the fence or indicated the slightest acknowledgment of a rather peculiar action.
Somewhere out there, in the possession of people who know people who live next door to people we know, there is a snapshot of the second wedding of two people who are friends with the people who happen to live next door to people they know.
The world just keeps shrinking, does it not? Perhaps one day we will all be enveloped in one another's photograph albums, unfamiliar faces beaming brightly as strangers turn the pages.