– Is that you, Max? – Lauren asks suddenly. I imagine her eyes, the eyes of a hungry cobra, and I try to say something. But it doesn't work out for me. - A pint of light! - someone demands there, in Manchester at night. Is that you, Max? How did she guess? I can't answer her. Right now I can’t, it’s beyond my strength. Yes, it’s not clear to me whether it’s me. Could it be someone else? Is someone else sitting on the veranda now, thirty-eight centimeters from their own life? Someone alien, without a name or nationality. Stretching your bare feet into the sun. Chinese Shin sitting in an old chair. Contains obscene language.