O. and I would like to borrow a bass and a guitar. We're waiting for the man to give them to us. But he has nothing for us. I walk next to the man on the sand and say to him. "You really want to play this like this? Really?" He threatens to knock me over. I continue home but can't brake properly and skid too far across the road. I go to my parents' old flat, but I don't have the key with me. I get out of the lift and wonder whether I should call, but then I want to ring the doorbell and hope that O. will open the door for me. The door is ajar and I step inside. J. is standing in front of me, vacuuming. After all this time, she hasn't changed at all. She barely reacts, doesn't she recognise me? I ask if my friend is there. She points to the kitchen. There are a lot of people there listening to music. Is that our music? O. says no. We still don't have any bass. What should we do? Where can we get one? I say from a rental shop. O. asks which bass we should get. I say a Fender Jazz Bass. Or we can take mine. Where is it? There's another group of people in the living room.