In a hotel room, in the very center of Rome, a stone's throw from the Pantheon, a naked woman examines her reflection in the mirror. Like Scheherazade from the Thousand and One Nights, the woman begins her story by addressing the man. She tells a story of love, their love, but it could very well be a story about another love, about another man. Her memory resurrects the story in every detail: the birth of passion, the desire for self-denial, the willingness to devote herself entirely to it, the encounter with cruelty, disappointment and hostility. A story similar to a confession, but dispassionate, like geometry, mysterious, like the architecture of pagan times.