The routine started as hitherto fore. I started paying additional attention to my wife, always praising her beauty and her sex appeal, as suggested by...my daughter Faryal. Like any other woman on God’s earth, my wife felt pleased, whenever I adored her. We started spending more time in our bar, taking wine and at times whisky together and even restarted watching nude movies. Soon she started enjoying whisky instead of wine. Meanwhile my elder daughter Faryal had been continuously arousing and. She couldn’t even remember, or ever again trace her steps back to the back alley where she had found the bartender standing leaning against the fire exit door. But there he was, and this she would remember for the rest of her life. Not as a timeline of events, memories don’t quite work that way, but as images, sensations, snippets of drunken, delirious conversation, tastes. This man, this person, this escape from the word of unreal make-believe charades. His hard, chisled face, his slender. More

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