B: And since then?

E: Then I thought sex was like that. I tried it again with him. I tried it with others too, but it wasn’t the same. Each morning I would wake up crying, because that night in the classroom I experienced a kind of bliss nothing could measure up to. I didn’t know how to recreate it. Now you think I’m crazy?

B: No. Not at all.

E: Yes, I can see that. You believe in it, right? You believe that all this really happened.

B: I do.

E: Eventually I realized what was missing. Not the right man or the mood. The music. The music was missing. I focused very hard, and one of the melodies came to me. The only melody, perhaps. I started humming it during sex. And it worked. Nothing came close to the band actually playing, but with the melody I could approximate that original experience. It’s only because of this that I’m able to survive. My parents freaked out of course. After all I was a genius, top of the class, I was going to be a biochemist. Then I decided to be a prostitute. I wasn’t forced into it like so many others. Do you think it’s strange? I like it this way. I can still remember the melody. That’s what my clients come for. For me to sing to them. I need them, too. Each time we fly back to the classroom for a little while. Each time they’re with me, in that classroom, on that winter night. They’re with me and we’re young again, touching something that’s beyond . . . beyond us, beyond what we are, what we see. It pays good money too, but the money’s not what I care about.

B: Why haven’t you looked up the band?

E: Because if I could experience them raw, I wouldn’t want to come back to this world. It wouldn’t make sense to go on living. I think that was her problem too. I told her not to go back, but she just kept going to the concerts. Interesting, you know. If you had been to one, you would know when they played next. You would just feel. I don’t think she went abroad.

B. Where did she go?

E: I think she’s still here. I think she’s one with the town. I think she’s just beyond.

B: Beyond . . .

E: Do you want to hear it? The melody?

B: Yes.

E: Come to bed.

B: I don’t have money on me.

E: I don’t care. You deserve it. You understand . . . Come.

(at this point it’s as if the tape got damaged, there is nothing but static noise)

B: My God. My God.

E: Do you want more?

B: Yes! Show me!

(static noise again)

E: Take off your clothes!

(static noise from this point until the end of the recording)