Do your parents construct your soul at that climactic moment? Or does it pre-exist, only to be reactivated in that surge of passion? Given all the loveless and wanton sex taking place, I find it hard to believe that this act is the source of all the souls of the universe. It seems our music was composed elsewhere, long ago, by something more profound than a couple of sweating primates knocking boots. One of the most exhilarating aspects of parenting is discovering the essence