My mother and eggs, à la française
by test , at 6:52 PM , have 0
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My mother loves Paris. This should not surprise you; after all, I’ve already made it clear that she is a genius.She speaks nary a word of French, but she swathes herself in head-to-toe black (which is, after all, her daily uniform), laces up one of her many pairs of tiny (size 5 ½), aerodynamic, Euro-style Pumas, and hits the streets with the air of one who knows. She is unafraid. She can