People are people. This really hasn’t changed much over the centuries. You can romanticize pictures and stories of them all you want, but what it comes down to is that they’re still people that are just as flawed as the rest of us. I, for one, am deeply suspicious of anything that is touted as “perfect” or widely romanticized, such as this picture. Whenever I look at it, I don’t see the symbol people are trying to put forward–I see the people in it, wondering what they’re thinking; where they come from; what they’ve seen; what they’ve done. And I know that no matter what the occasion and no matter who is being photographed/painted/filmed/whatever, they are still people, and no person is perfect.