Some weddings don’t follow the rules. Mariateresa and Francesco’s, at Le Axidie in Vico Equense, was love, passion and pure madness.
The morning was all portholes and round mirrors, friends in yellow and pink, Vesuvius from the terrace.
Then Mariateresa stepped onto a boat and arrived by sea. Wind in her hair, a toast on board, arms raised at the bow.
The ceremony was outdoors, above the sea, among tufts of pampas grass. The rings, Francesco’s tears, a dip for the first kiss.
Then dinner on the terrace, facing Vesuvius at sunset, with a tambourine at every place. And a party until dawn: the bride tossed in the air, the dancers, an arch of lights, tambourines playing, another outfit for dancing, the cake among the sparks.
Nobody stood still for a second.
Not even me.
