Night and daze

Miles wakes up bleary-eyed on the leopardskin rug. There are empty plastic bags and unlabeled bottles on the nightstand, but he's more curious about the cashews and banana peels on the floor. (The cuica in the bed seems to make sense though.) He has no idea what time or day it is. His last memory is of being in mid-musical flight, swirling colors and sweat, flanked by many hairy men in ecstatic waves. He looks out the window and this tune appears full-formed in his head.

Miles Davis - Little Church