Duboce Triangle, 8:30 a.m.Two young men sprawled on a stone entrance stairway: cruddy black jeans, wallet chains, black waffle stompers. One's in a gray hoodie, the other in a wifebeater and a neon-green furry pimp hat.
They're engaged in a conversation so animated that all four of their hands are deployed, reminding me more than a little of this guy.
Now where the hell was La Goulue?
