There he was, at the turntables. So majestic. His fingers danced. They danced like a ballet dancer, dancing a ballad. To the left of him was the bar currently full of patrons, buying and drinking shots and other miscellaneous alcoholic drinks. Some of them were probably resting their tired legs, tired from dancing non-stop for a couple of hours or more. You look to your right of him, and see a group of dancing people, glasses in hand, moving to the beat of the music. Finally you look in the front of him and the turntables, and that's where most of the people crowded, all bouncing and moving to the music, all enjoying the art he created with his hands, like an artist. His canvas and brush being his hands and turntables. It was a beautiful sight for you, really. He was painting a picture for all to not see, but hear. He was simply a majesty on the turntables.