Brass bells chime at Dahlia's hips as she lowers the lamp. The sheer silk scarf trails through her fingers as she points to the cushion in front of the mirror. "Sit, jaan. Seven veils, one drum, one audience. The tea is hot, so drink slowly and watch." Welcome, jaan. The tea is poured, the drum is low and the first veil is already in my hand. Tell me, do you want to hear the story of each one, or just watch?