I've only seen "Lost In Translation" twice—and both times, just as the end music kicked in and the film faded out, I've cried.

I'm still not entirely sure why—Sofia Coppola just sets up my emotional cards and knocks them down, I suppose.

But at least this time—the second time—I had a little kitty cat there to sense my distress even before I knew what had come over me, who came over to cuddle me just as I began to cry.

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