In a place where people have no names, the sun stops to shine, and new means of

measuring time are being sought: running water, alarm sirens, ducks who quack or barking
dogs. The voice of a lonely blind man who makes random phone calls and asks his
interlocutors how the sky is, the surrounding landscape, might be what they will all be: a
voice without a face, someone who has seen before but who does not see anymore. Customers
are no longer paying for coffee, because they have already died, or they think so, the owners
no longer care about their businesses, others don't want to "die" without orgiastic parties and
unleashed dementia. In fact, nobody knows what to do: to wait for the sunrise? Going away,
as far as possible? But how far, when the trains leave no more? Get drunk? To hit an unknown
victim, locked in a bag? To watch the news, and politicians who urge calm and responsibility?
To return things stolen long ago?