October 8, 2016:
Those shadows. He looks dumpy: hoodie and runner's cap over pear-shaped middle. She looks thick, very slightly, artifact of depression weight now nearly lost. There's still something sunny about her, even her shadow, although that could be memory and fantasy intervening. The important thing is that he's turned toward her, and she's turned away, and although not entirely exact, that's as good a metaphor as any for what happened soon after.
Flash! There by the falls in deep twilight, a portrait by her lover the photographer. She looks lovely, and sad, and golden, and tired.
The great bay from hills. Rocks and boat rides, magical light, less magic in the hotel rooms where he's already pulling away, now losing confidence in the entire course of his life.