My nephew on the terrace of Mon Ami Gabi at the Paris — in his cool Seven Samurai T-shirt.  We feasted like kings — oysters, snails, chicken-liver mousse, steak, lobster.

Groups of crazed bachelorettes dressed like hookers, with plastic tiaras and beauty-pageant sashes, swirled around us but did not deter us from serious talk about movies.
  As you can probably tell from my expression in the photo above, the conversation has just turned to the subject of André Bazin.

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