House of a thousand guitars

Issac leaves his guitar here overnight like a calling card.

The guitar's case is here too  - dark, in a corner, lurking; a half-open coffin.

We listen to Suzanne as we walk down to the river for a late evening swim.  Zaac dares interrupt Leonard to tell me it would probably have been better if Cohen had left all the singing to Jeff Buckley.  I can't work out whether to sulk or agree with him.