”Actually I enjoy the quiet around the house and he never was much good about about sex or satisfying anyone. ‘Climb on.’ ‘Fuck about for abou... thirty seconds.’ ‘Climax.’ Roll off and go to sleep!’ The original ‘wham, bam, thank you mam!’ Except he was never thoughtful, or polite enough even to think of saying ‘Thank-you!’”My face must have been a picture during this little, if thankfully quiet tirade. I’d certainly almost blown the mouthful of coffee down her front during the start of her. None of the music was at all familiar to me, but with the exception of the heavy metal band, it all sound pleasant, and I was slowly becoming a part of the crowd. I wandered around little tent covered booths run by a variety of Craft Merchants and non-profit groups. Sand blasted wine bottles in one, jewelry in another, wool clothing from Peru, and masks and carvings from Africa. Here was a face painter, there a woman in a traditional Somali dress doing very delicate scroll work on a young. More

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