He hated this world. Hated and feared. He was afraid of the sun above his head, the winding streets of Copenhagen and its dark gateways, afraid of the emptiness of his own apartment, random passers-by, friends, the girl he loved - everything that reminded him that there was no one else next to him. No parents died in a car accident when he was only thirteen. There is no older sister, whom he drove to suicide with his such demanding and such selfish love. There is no Silje girl whose unbridled tenderness gave rise only to his cruelty in response. And on the very day when the knot of pain inside him grew to unimaginable proportions, filled his body and head and was already threatening to burst out, this big guy in sandals appeared in his life, at first glance so different from the one who once died on the cross...