Somehow the scene is centred on the analyst's bald patch. An ever increasing one, which, along with the beard, increasingly evoke Sigmund Freud. He has noticed, and thinks this is not going to help the jokes. He is sitting in a comfortable armchair, legs crossed, chin in hand. Asks a question: "Would you say you care for her?" The analysand, as per the tradition, is lying on The Couch, in stockinged feet. Mismatched socks as it happens. His eyes are closed behind glasses which easily qualify for the category of face furniture. He thinks. "Yes. Obviously. But I'm asking myself in what way I care for her. That's the real question." He often does that. Face to face, he would have launched into a 5 minutes soliloquy. Unable to see the analysts' face, though, he breaks down his thoughts, to give the analyst space to signal they're still listening. And he does just that. "So... In what way do you care for her?" The analyst plays along, although parts of him wonders if he's ever been less than attentive with this client on the couch. It was the analysand himself who chose the couch, and decided, for obvious reasons, to adopt a classical psychonalysis frame. But the switch from monologue to dialogue was after. Was there a point, he wonders, where he caught me not listening? "Thank you Dr Frederick, I thought you'd never ask." A pause. The analysand opens his eyes, and it is only at this moment I realise this is me. I am floating 12 inches off the ceiling in the consulting room, watching the scene from the top. No that there is much of an 'I' going on, mind you. It was more of an eye, a selfless eye unattached to a particular ego. But when I open my eyes on the couch, it is immediately self-evident to me that this person is me. That I am the analysand. This scene, therefore, must be important. Whatever I that is, up there on the ceiling, slides towards a corner for a better view of my face. his. "I think I care about her in... I suppose a pastoral way. Not directly professional, but driven by my professional ethos", he --I say, on the couch, after a beat. I remember he is a teacher. Maths. High School. I continue: "but, also, in a... an affective... I'm not going to use the word romantic --" "--Why not ?" Dr Frederick - Simon, I now remember, asks, never one to let this kind of statement go un-analysed. 'Dr Simon Fred', hence the Freud Jokes, with him neither trained, nor particularly interested, in classical psychoanalysis. He is, however, enjoying a mode of interaction without eye contact. He would have assumed not being able to read emotions would be an impairment, but this allows him to focus on the words - and the voice carries a lot of emotional tone. He realises how much of his mind, during face to face therapy practice, is occupied *performing* an attentive therapist with his body, and particularly face. It's nice to free this up. "Romantic is.. .a literary and broader artistic.. genre, right? As a way of describing _love_". I emphasise the word with a sarcastic tone and big air quotes. "Or whichever of the four words for love the Greek had - probably covers a couple of them. So, it's affect, sure. It's not passionate love. There is clearly a sexual aspect, but I'm keeping this in check." He hears himself. "It's not the right way to put it. I am mindful of it, and how it has affected my interactions with her." "I notice you use the past tense?" Simon rarely miss these either. "Yeah, well, sure, I guess you can't be mindful in retrospect. I have let it - the sexual attraction - affect some of my interactions with her, and it's" He pauses. " been unhelpful, maybe?". "You don't sound very sure", prompts Simon, almost in reflex. "No, I'm pretty sure that's unhelpful, but it's difficult to acknowledge because of the attraction", the client, starts waving his hands in front if him, delineating two areas. "It's like on one side there's the healthy, pastoral concern, and on the other the sexual attraction". He pauses to think. "I think the pastoral concern is helpful. She, I think, would disagree. Doesn't want to be helped". One hand is still up, he moves it to the other side. "then the attraction, that's not helpful to her. But really, not helpful to _me_". He sigs. "But it is possible this is what she is seeking, so I... what feel compelled to offer this kind of attention to trick her into letting me give her the other kind ?" The other hand has come back up and invisible shapes are delineated, then connected, in the still air. "Do you think there is some deception at play ?" Simon uncrosses his legs, recrosses them. "Probably. But of the kind where I'm deceiving even myself. I've told you about these",