“Hurt Into Poetry: On Poetry and Greece”By Stephanos Papadopoulos
"The girl in it was my mother, Lili, and though she couldn't be older than fourteen, someone had rimmed her eyes with kohl and darkened her mouth with a lipstick so deep it looked black in the picture. Her dress was satin, pulled taut across her torso and pinched at the waist, and her shoulders turned in awkwardly where a wedding veil skimmed her body. The man at her side was not my father. I'd never seen him before. He wore a gray fedora with his tuxedo and his right hand encircled my mother's waist with surprisingly elegant fingers.
A bride, I realized with a start, she'd once been this stranger's bride."
— Jasmin Darznik, The Good Daughter