Tord Lawson.
Age 26.
A world-wide photographer.
Was born in Norway and moved to Britain to fulfill his work. It used to be part-time, but after he was hired by Gazelle (not a real company, mind you), it became his full-time job. It wasn't a terrible occupation. He had good pay, and he had passion in his work.
Ever since he was in college, he took part in digital and visual arts; taking the course on photography.
(I don't know how college works, forgive me)
With flying colors, he graduated and began his work. Soon, being known almost anywhere and everywhere.
His assigned destination was Paris, also known as "The City of Love."
From the plane ride alone, he already felt excited.
The sights, the city, the nature-
It held beauty. He was glad to be there.
It was his third day.
In his hand, he held the photos he took the previous two days from his sight-seeing. Of course, they were vibrant and held art. Plus, the locals were pretty kind.
Speaking of the locals, he had planned on taking a few shots of them in hopes that he could present their fashion. (Depending if the locals would agree)
He stood up from his bed and readied himself for the day.
Dressed in a red turtle-neck and a brown coat matched with black pants, grey shoes and a red beanie, He locked the door to his room before heading down.
As he reached the last step, he was greeted by the lady at the counter, who gave him a soft smile.
Don't fret, she's taken. And she's more than happy to be with her significant other.
"Good morning sir! Out for another day of sight-seeing?" She asked.
Tord nodded as a response before smiling back.
He didn't say a word.
Besides, what good are words when a smile says it all?
As soon as Tord walked out the doors, he breathed in the fresh air of the town he was staying in.
'Time to ask the locals.' He thought.
After a few minutes of walking, he spotted a couple standing beneath a tree. They seemed to be in their 60s. Everything in the scene felt so appealing and oddly captivating that he straight up walked towards them.
Not in a rude way, of course.
"Excuse me..." Tord started. "Would you mind if I took your photo? I promise I won't take long."
He held up his camera.
The couple looked at each other and smiled. "Of course."
He posed, fixed, and adjusted himself to find the lighting.
Meanwhile, the couple posed a few times, following what they were requested to do.
After their little photo shoot, Tord collected his belongings and showed them the shots he took.
As always, they were amazed.
"You're a very talented young man." The lady commented. Tord wasn't very well know in the area, surprisingly.
"You must be an expert at your work."
Tord rubbed his nape as he let out a soft laugh. "Not really, I just do what I love to do."
Suddenly, an idea popped into the man's head.
"Then I bet you'd love to stroll by the bridge near the square."
He didn't sound so French. He sounded more of a Brit.
Tord was intrigued. "Bridge? Nearby a square?"
The man nodded. "I'm Philip by the way, and this is my lovely wife, Rosé."
He extended his hand out for a shake which Tord accepted.
"If you walk straight ahead, and then turn left, from afar you'll see it. "le pont d'amour doré", is what it's called by the locals."
Tord listened on as Philip continued.
"It's a wide bridge that connects two cities. On it's railings, you'll find locks attached to it. The west side of the bridge contains two locks that connect to each other signifying the love of two people. On the east, locks that hang on their own mean that those souls are searching for someone. Their soulmate. Each single lock has it's own specific key. Rumor has it that if a certain key fits on a certain lock, two star-crossed lovers have found each other."
He smiled as he remembered his younger days.
"Which is where I found this lovely woman right here." He gestures to his wife, giving her a ginger kiss on the forehead. She giggles at the action.
