Imagine Luc Besson sitting, like Jean-Pierre Leaud, amid the chaos, a hand on his forehead, mumbling, Zere ees no flesh ...
Luc Besson was sitting, imagine it, mumbling gibberish while putting his hand on his forehead.
Luc Besson was standing up, raving and furious about the lack of flash.
They are sitting at the tables and coloring with crayons
The people are walking down a street
Get yourself a plaque with your name on it
There is a horse in a stall eating hay.
a woman with black rimmed glasses sleeping with a drink in his hand
I had a gun in my cheek.