During the height of summer, aided by gin martinis and Indonesian cigarettes, Believer contributor Caia Hagel arranged this fictional interview with Leonard Cohen. Even when imaginary, Cohen is a slippery subject, and what follows is entirely untrue. See Part II, Part III.

I wore my blue Burberry trench coat cinched up tight at the waist with a nude body leotard underneath it so it was like I was naked, and I got myself into a Famous Blue Raincoat kind of mood. I had fluttering in my stomach, partly because I had not eaten, partly because I had had four coffees, partly because I was nervous about coming face to face with a song god poet on his own terrain, which had an era all of its own that wasn’t mine.

It was early for a meeting between nighttime people; the streets had emptied of work commuters and pigeons were diving from rooftops and gathering on the pavement to prey on the leftovers and spills of the morning crowd in their rush. The air was bilious with a bulky humidity that seemed to make moving more difficult. The clicking of my shoes drifted to my ears in distant rings through the thickness of it as I pushed my way forward, swallowing aspirin and angling my posture.

Eventually I approached the doors of the Chelsea Hotel. I walked past the plaque commemorating the famous blowjob that Leonard got from Janis Joplin before she OD’d. That woke me up a little more.

Once inside the notorious building, I looked around for what I had heard was his small, suited figure. I knew his low voice well from the CDs I had grown up with but I didn’t know his physical presence. I pictured it as an alert, watchful bird-like one, clothed in slightly outsize and elegant clothing, who, in a room, tended to be partly obscured from others and always watching. My detailed survey of the lobby told me Leonard wasn’t there yet, so I sat on a red velvet couch close to the door.

I noticed the scummy carpet and the dirty walls and the kaleidoscope of art – what artist didn’t live here and lose their mind in the free love era? The art was hung in an artless way that even to me seemed showy when Hello, the Chelsea will be cool for all time. I didn’t need to write this in my interview notepad because everyone of every generation in all parts of the world knows this. But when you stand inside a well-known place and experience the characteristics of it through all of your...