Who are we, and where are we. I lose my way in trying to answer these questions every time I pass a beggar on the plush chewing gummed streets of Birmingham. I've become friends of a Sicilian fashion designer, who after a few years of knowing him tells me losing his wealthy father forced him to flee his country, that has been stereo typed as the home of one of the most brutal organisations on earth. He tells me one day he will return, but will need a gun to warn those that forced him to leave, he is not to be fooled with. We talk in a pub for 8 hours, neither of us drinking alcohol. Women pass us stealing glances from his designs, while we talk of combining our art of things we love and enjoy doing.