For the last two decades, every 9 years or so, cine goers have had to put aside their rom-coms, cancel their dates with million dollar explosions, avoid the summer superheroes that promise to save the day, and clear the calendar for a very special occasion. A walk with Jesse and Celine.

Whats so special about this walk, the uninitiated might ask. I dont know. Whats special about a long walk with old friends you havent seen in a while?

We still remember our first walk together, a magical night among the lamp lit streets of historic Vienna. The free abandon of youth, the electric silences, the pressing conversations, a race against time. It was a beautiful ephemeral night, sadly to end. We met again, as they met again, 9 years later, this time in sunny Paris. Along the banks of the Seine, we exchanged glances and regrets. A faint promise of what could have been, and in the end, a hope of what would be. It was a good day for a walk in Paris.

It has been 9 years since. And its time to check up on Celine and Jesse. We had busied ourselves, sometimes fondly remembering our romantic friends, and then getting back to the rigors of life. As we catch up with the fiery couple on the rested islands of Greece, we find that they have been busy too. They are now a family. With everything that entails. As we saunter across rocky trails, it begins to dawn that there is trouble in paradise. Not the kind of trouble that would accompany the almost fictional moorings of their unusual story. But of the kind we ourselves know intimately. Suddenly, the walk isnt what it used to be. Suddenly, you dont want to know how they're doing anymore. The more they talk, the more you want them to stop. You know where they're headed. You've been there before. Almost everybody who claims to love has.

In the real world, love has a tendency to mutate, and clearly it has done so here. They are having trouble recognizing it, amid all the "bull****". Our friends are not the fallible, yet fictional, characters of intrigue any more. They are fallible and real, like you or me. And it is with a sinking feeling, like a car heading towards a cliff, that you watch them accelerate with a sickening familiarity. You want to warn them, but they cannot hear you over the din. You're not even sure what you would say. They are at the edge of the cliff, ready to keel over, when the magical thing happens. The magical thing of love in the real world. Someone gives an inch, someone takes that inch and pulls them back, and the love that was lost and mutated is found again, breathes again, and saves them both.

Phew. They know what to do. And thanks to the walk, for a while, now we do too.