We lived near Tirana’s main park, the Grand Park, and most days I walked there, usually accompanied by a small gang of local street dogs who had adopted me into their pack. In the heavily polluted city the park together with the imaginatively named Artificial Lake provided one of the few escapes from the traffic, the pollution and the general chaos of Tirana. Every day the locals would come to walk, to play, to cycle, to picnic or just to sit and relax. On the weekends in particular the older generation would put on their Sunday best and promenade on the pathway that winds around the lake.

On this particular day I was watching life from a park bench when these two older gentlemen, strolling and chatting, approached and sat down a little way from me. They sat there in mostly companionable silence, exchanging the occasional few words, and I snapped this picture of them discreetly. They reminded me of my grandfather, though he was of an even older generation. Granda Moore always wore a suit and tie. I can’t recall him ever wearing anything else. He wore simple but sturdy leather shoes and he never went out without a hat. I could well imagine him sitting on the bench beside these two passing the time of day.