Life is woven from moments, impressions, associations. Few people remember them in detail. But Jane Fairchild always paid attention to detail. And Mothering Sunday 1924, the day when Paul Sheringham, her lover, died in a car accident - she remembered in every detail, down to the sounds and play of shadows, smells and sensations. And it was on this day that the orphan maid Jane ceased to exist and a famous writer appeared, who would have a long, very long life, which would include the reign of several kings, two world wars and much more. And all her life she will solve this mystery - why is reality reflected in our consciousness one way or another? And how to find the right words to reproduce the chain of moments?