"There is never any end to Paris"--romance

Toasting my love, in l'Atlas, with Guy Pascal and his little dog Octavous in the background

TBT--Twelve years ago this month, we were in Paris.
Sure it was winter, but usually just rainy, but not all the time.
We discovered immediately what Hemingway meant when he wrote "There is never any end to Paris," in A Moveable Feast.

Guy Pascal and Octavous

We stayed in a hotel in the Latin Quarter, doing our own tour every day. The last night there, we walked in the rain to l'Atlas, a brasserie in the St. Germaine area, had wonderful oysters and seafood.
Across the room, I spotted this old Frenchman and his little dog, and went over to ask him if I could take their photo. He spoke perfect English, having just returned from years in New York. 
Memories... including a middle- aged professor having dinner with a beautiful young grad student next to us.
Paris...romance.