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Montreal Cafe

Montreal Café Sitting in the middle of a tufted velvet green couch is a man with salt and pepper hair. He sits beside a middle aged woman. She has a look I am usually drawn to; a long face and toothy with eyes closely set. She wears a turtleneck, her long wavy hair sits on her shoulders. And in the way that Montreal women seem to pull off, her look is funky-disheveled rather than bedraggled. Winter paraphernalia surrounds them on the couch. He is looking at her intently over his chunky black frame glasses, and is slowly rubbing her forearm. His air is slow, focused and therapeutic rather than romantic. He pauses and mimes the motion of typing, his hands hovering over the white cardboard coff

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