My singing teacher told me.

In his youth, he sang in the cocktail of friends, the people who drank ordered songs and paid money, everything was not in charge.

On Saturday evening, a sad man comes in and goes straight to my teacher.

“What kind of woman” do you know?

of course.

How many hours?

The hour? I have not been paid for the clock yet.

Okay, that’s $500, can you sing for three hours? My wife left me...

Okay, I can do it.



And he sang. The man drank.

Three hours of the same song. Since then, she says, I will never be able to sing her again.