I imagine that I wake up early in the night, I cannot recognize anyone in the house, I try to open my eyes to see the street from the window... It rains and my car (an old south-korean model) leaves the place. I turn my head on the library of my childhood's bedroom. And then, I read on an old white book (a cheap book from an unknown publishing house) my name and a title that I cannot recognize, I cannot remember. My mouth stinks and I light a cigarette. I open the book with the ultimate hope to meet my self. The book proves to be rubbish. The car has left the place. And I remain alone in a house, where noone knows me, noone remembers me, noone recognizes me. I'd like to meet a man less ambitious, less piss-head, and less ugly than me...