He sat there, keeping me cradled against his chest. The moon was already up, visible through the gauzy clouds, and his face glowed pale in the white light.
At that moment, in bright moonlight, it seemed as if a hand reached high might just touch it; it was so brittle-clear against the blue immensity beyond.
On a bright, blustery evening the courtyard at Charleston, close to its statue-strewn walled garden, was the perfect spot for their funny, moving recital (a one-off, but you can stream it online).