By the time we arrive in Paris, it is nearly midnight. Alain rolls open the sliding door of his enormous yellow van, Amanda and I stumble out and the three of us fling our arms around each other amid promises of imminent reunion. Amanda burrows into her rucksack and fishes out a pair of novelty Bob Marley socks. These she presents, quite solemnly, to Alain, who is visibly moved. We part, laughing sadly like old friends.
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