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A Fuck at the Opera
It all began one afternoon while I was sitting reading in the students’ union coffee shop. I heard a voice I recognised. ‘Hi, Annie! Do you mind if I join you?’ I looked up and saw Adam, a guy I knew vaguely through some other friends. I knew he was in his third year of a music degree, and he’d been to a party at our place a couple of weeks ago, where we’d had quite a long chat in the kitchen about the sort of music we both liked. He was doing a dissertation on dissident music in the Soviet...