Twenty-four minutes until sunset.“What’s for dinner?” grunted Tarik as he sat down.“Chicken and rice,” my sister answered. “It’s in the ...ven. It’ll be ready in an hour.”He grunted and stumbled to the living room. The TV came on, Arabic filling the room as he watched one of the channels from our satellite dish. It sounded like a soccer game. He didn’t say anything as I busied myself in the kitchen.“I’m going to sprout my cock, and he’ll still be here,” I complained to my sister in a hushed. In front of it sat two men in casual dress, nudging various slide controls to manage the audio they'd already recorded. In front of them, on the other side of glass wall, nine musicians stood listening to the playback in a large recording studio. Two backup singers – a man and a woman – also sat on tall stools in the studio listening to the playback. Each instrument and singer had their own microphone, and there was space for several more singers or instruments.Everyone in the control room. More

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