![]() ![]() ![]() The Spanish sun glanced brightly off the fountains and turned the flowers into neon. On the rim of a reflecting pond, a pair of lovers did what lovers do, oblivious of the throngs of sightseers. The bride, a slightly-past-sell-date dark haired lady stuffed into her white gown, led the mustachioed groom toward a fountain for wedding pictures. In one courtyard, we came across a wedding party. We lined up at the appointed time for the daytime tour and wandered on cobblestone streets to graceful stone archways, past flower-bordered paths and into the endless intricacy of Moorish rooms covered in jewel-toned tiles. Thanks to Irving’s Tales of the Alhambra, when we went to a bank that sells tickets to the Alhambra, Ken and I bought tickets for both the daytime tour and the evening tour. “…clothing naked realities with the illusions of the memory and the imagination,” as he puts it. In his book, Tales of the Alhambra, which describes time that he spent in the wonderful building that dominates Granada Spain, he weaves stories that take place in daylight shadows and others that slink through the dark. Washington Irving knew the evocative power of moonlight. The light peoples the walls of the Alhambra with romantic ghosts. Moonlight illuminates tile walls and stone lions that are more than 600 years old. ![]() Book: Tales of the Alhambra by Washington Irving Reflecting pool in the Alhambra ![]()
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