I'm in an old house on Menorca. I'm rushing down stairs, past a woman with a child. T. is there, or L. We've been here before to record music. Behind a door. Memories of cocaine and work and music. I'm in a hotel with another man. M.? We still have to shower. I tell him to go first. He says we can introduce ourselves now that we know each other. I think I already know him. I don't shower. We go into a room where I greet an Italian woman. She turns away before I can give her a second kiss. There are lots of pictures jumbled up on a large wall. Someone brings a large picture of a bullfight. Someone else says it should be hung in the empty space on the wall. The Italian woman has taken over my studio. The floor is now dark and very rough. It looks good, less elegant, rougher. There are two tables next to the window. I visit the room a second time.