J threw a dinner party, and we all assembled for curry. Afterwards he and H stood at the piano, still holding wine, singing Cowardian lounge music with a gleeful familiarity that must be hardwired into all Cambridge graduates. I even myself performed Monty Python’s “Penis Song”, correcting J on the correct tempo to be used. He promised to teach me Bach’s Aria Da Capo, so I couldn’t have been too presumptuous. A person I could have been watched from behind drunken eyes at a young cherry tree in blossom. A brief reflection of dawn on a day obsessed with sunset.