Innsbruck, Austria, 1985. I am overcome by the beauty of this city's setting at the foot of the Alps. Or perhaps by the altitude and the effect it (and the high-octane beer available locally) had on me.
Meantime . . .
. . . my lovely wife, Judy, seemed overcome by the charms of one of a group of locals we ran into and then joined as we closed a bar we were all frequenting. His name was Bruno. Judy and I were in agreement that he should henceforth be known as Beautiful Bruno.