“Yes, two weeks ago. His stitches on the arm were removed. He goes to James’ studio again and plays the piano. Basically, the rise of the superstar is continuing.”



One time during lunch I came out of the building to get some fresh air. All of a sudden I saw the pair in front of me: Francis and Michael—together!

They stood next to Michael’s blue Toyota and spoke intensely about something. Then they both got inside the car and—vroom! vroom!—drove away.



So, here it is.

The punk band was called Crazy Brothers, as Francis wanted.

Percussion and lyrics, Michael Levy; keyboard and vocals, Francis Morales; guitar and vocals, Freya Harrison.

It is a fantastic punk band, with a bright future: concerts, tours, CDs, music videos, and basically the ringing of timpani and fireworks, accompanying the life of stars and pop idols.

I have no idea where they met the guitarist Freya. Francis said that it was in a bar where she was performing her songs to guitar. It may be.

When Jenn and I first discovered the newly-created website of the new punk band and saw the photos of the musicians uploaded there, Jenn got visibly miserable.

“What a fucking nightmare…”

Personally, I didn’t see anything horrible in those photos: two guys in ripped T-shirts and with reddish-green colored hair behind the instruments, and a young woman—also in just a low-cut T-shirt, with tattoos and a guitar—screaming into the microphone. Francis’s keyboard also has a microphone into which he is screaming. The drummer Michael likewise has a microphone in front of his face. Basically, you can only imagine the kind of racket going on in James’ studio, where they practiced.