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“She comes up and she is smiling and says, ‘There’s someone to see you.’ ” The tall and mustachioed Jean-Luc Navette stands, smoking and raconteuring, in the aerie of his shop, Viva Dolor, in a coolish, almost-cul-de-sac in Lyon. Viva Dolor, which Navette describes as an art gallery and beauty service, is what the rest of the world would call a tattoo parlor, but Navette’s aspirations are grand.

“I tell her, ‘Tell him I’m busy.’ ” Navette smiles. He had been working on Dernier Été du Vieux Monde, his first book.

 “That’s Kanye,” she said.

“Who?” Yeah. Navette breathes the rarefied air of someone absolutely not dialed into pop culture in the same way many in the West with eyes are. Still didn’t change the fact that he was busy. Kanye West had to wait before Navette had time to help him with a tattoo piece he wanted to get to memorialize the passing of his mother.

Dope shit.

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