I'm making music for a film outside. N., the director, is waiting. He calls me impatiently. Stands up and says ‘that's it’. I go to him. He's upset and angry with me. He shouts and punches me in the face. I have a beeping in my ear, stand there silently, turn to leave. I turn back and try to explain to N. why it's taking longer with the music, begging him to understand me. But he remains firm.

I'm standing in the kitchen with C. I pee through my suit trousers onto the floor. The pee forms a yellow pool. It's unpleasant, what's wrong with me? I have to wipe up the pee before C. notices it. What will my therapist say? Marilyn Monroe sings for Kennedy, other women for other men. I have a bowl full of water and a cloth and start mopping up. The bowl is actually too full. I meet a tall man outside. He's supposed to be a girl's boyfriend. Isn't he too old? Next to him is the father of my school friend J., he's Asian, wears a suit and a coat. The two girls with me greet him with a fist bump. We're standing near Potsdamer Platz and the men wanted to post something to say they're there.