Mauro has never been to Paris, and since it is entirely too early to duck into the little Vietnamese joint in the ‘hood–fitting, after all, as we did all travel in SE Asia together–we do the mandatory and visit the Arc de Triomphe, the Champs Élysées’ crowning glory, just in time to see it burn orange against a cerulean dusk.
Splendid, indeed, this starburst of military prowess.
Where In The World Is Gwendo? 
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