I'm at a party. I'm not drinking, but I'm doing coke. My psychotherapist is also there. The drug works but I'm tired, not euphoric, I take more. Will I have a hangover tomorrow? Isn't it too private to be with my therapist? Now he's a woman, I can see her naked back. It's very muscular and I can see her spine. I have to do some calculations. There are numbers on packs that are hard to find. I don't know how to do the maths in my head and try to open the calculator app on my mobile phone. But it also looks strange. The next day there's a workshop with bass players. It's a competition. The first bassist is supposed to play. He picks up his bass but the low E string hangs loosely over the other strings. The jury criticises him for this. The audience supports him. He sticks a piece of tape to the wall. Then he stretches the string to a mark to tune it. He then plays with the pitch by tightening and loosening the string. The sound follows a painted curve exactly. Other bassists play along a course. Water runs along a waterbed, over gravel, where it splits, back into a lake. I say to J., an old classmate, that this course is not for us. Then the bass players are judged without the audience. I find it strange that the judging is secret. The bassists come back. I say to a woman with short hair that I had actually expected her to be second. She thanks me. My coke hangover is not as bad as I feared. I shake the small glass vial with the rest of the cocaine.