There are no reasonable reasons to love these terrible, thinking only about football, sex, money and their own comfort (meaning enough food, alcohol and toilets at hand) egoists called “men”. But for us women, everything -you manage to find your one and only, unique and beloved “other half” among this endless male monotony. And how do we manage to see a prince on a white horse under the guise of an ordinary city dweller with a beer belly driving a used foreign car? And will it become easier for two to find a common language if they know from the very beginning that they are halves of one whole? If, for example, the Heavenly Office issues clear and unambiguous instructions on this matter? The unreal detective novel “Empty: Empty” is about this.