He was going through Nico’s manuscripts for his book again and again, lying on his back on the sofa in the sitting room. “Dinner. Fish accompanied by red dry wine. He asks the butler to shut the windows and pull the curtains. Why? Is the light bothering him? No, since it is already dark. The noise and hubbub from the piers. How did he dine in a place that felt like a furnace? Why didn’t he ask the butler for a clean shirt after dinner? He would tolerate no spot to mar his appearance…”
His eyelids were getting heavier. He surrendered himself to the dreamweavers. He was travelling in the land of Morpheus. He kept travelling…on and on…He was entering the lightless realm…He was listening to the squealing clickety-clack of metal on metal…And then it was Enzo’s clear laugh…He allowed himself to
