I met Bianca in Paris while I was there shooting a spread for Elle. Cafe Flore in St.Germain was my favorite café. I was there with a friend of mine before heading out for what was going to be a very long day. Bianca stormed in, hair all messed up, looking like she'd just fallen out of bed. Her eyes were the brightest of blues. I noticed she carried a heavy Italian accent the second she ordered a cappuccino and a croissant, rolling the Rrrrr in croissant the way she did. Not only was she the most beautiful girl I had ever laid eyes on, but she was Italian like me. She got the cover page of this story because even though we haven't been together for years, she still haunts every particle of my being. Bianca Mia.
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