I recognised the tune as Raah Bhairavi and smiled - it was Pakistani music; the restaurant was owned by Bangladeshi; but it was called Indian, and it... seemed like my waiter was Spanish. The meal arrived and I began to eat. As ever it was delicious. As I ate, I took in the music and the atmosphere, the sounds of conversation. The four men nearest to me were English I.T. specialists over in Dublin on a job. They were speking of the joys of Manchester nights out and the raunchiness of younger. Minutes of my touching the strings have been spent trying to find the unity among my guitar, the music, and who I am. Minutes of the touching are nothing among the three of us. Minutes of the touching are trying to hold on as we are sucked away from each other.The timer went off and it broke through to all of us.I put my guitar in its case and the timer in my pocket. There was anger in the eyes of one of the men on stage as I turned to leave."Have you ever been happy?" I asked him.He looked. He can see her nipples are standing fully erect now and he lays into her left tit again and again. You SMACK! Fucking SLAP! Whore WHACK! he yells leaving her left tit bright red and tingling and her snatch dripping wet. With a yank, Harold rips the rest of the tattered sundress of his bitch wifes body leaving her standing there with her wrists above her head in nothing but a skimpy g-string. Her thick black bush pokes around the edges of thin white fabric and her slick meaty cuntlips are. I looked after him as he headed out onto the balcony. Istarted to get up to join him, but I decided I needed a minute to composemyself as well. When I went onto the balcony Jay was leaning on therailing looking out over the city. I walked up slowly and put my hand onhis shoulder."Jay, I am sooo sorry about what happened in there."He turned towards me and told me I had nothing to apologize for. He knewit wasn't my fault. "Steve can be a bit of an ass when he's beendrinking," he said. "But there,.