Allan Porter’s smile puts you immediately at ease. His wise face is a sign of all that he remembers. We see upon it his love for life, which he has long expressed through photography. In his apartment in Lucerne, Switzerland, Porter wore a white beard, pants with the cuffs rolled up, and a thin ponytail. We shared a hearty meal of wine, rillettes and cheese brought by his old friend—and peerless procurer—Jean-Jacques Naudet. It was a lunch between adopted sons, one from Europe, the other from America, two continents with opposing cultures but an eternal love for each other.
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