Another cafe; this one in Provence. How many stories can we tell with just one photo? I’d say the guy in the shorts, legs crossed and hands placed perfectly upon his leg, is pretty pleased with his ponytailed friend. She’s said something that’s made him proud. He’s impressed. What about the woman just behind the lady in the fancy dress and the cute shoes? She’s at the cafe next door, but she’s awfully unhappy. Tongue in cheek, hand on her forehead, she’s tired of the backpackers tromping through the local cafes, bumping her table. “Remember when it was just us?” she asks. He does; he certainly does.