‘There’s a lot of truth in that,’ Daníel said, taking a seat in one of the chairs by the table, where a sewing machine stood in the middle of a heap of pieces of cloth, reels of cotton and incomplete drawings of dresses. Lady sat in the other chair, reached to open a small fridge, took out a couple of beers and handed one of the cans to Daníel.

‘You don’t seem well, my love. Your aura is in tatters.’

Daníel murmured something unintelligible and drank half a 181can in one long swallow. He had as much belief in auras as he had in elves. But there was a relief in someone picking up that he wasn’t feeling well, that someone paid him enough attention to figure out his inner pain.

‘There’s a woman on my mind.’

‘It had to be something like that,’ Lady said. ‘There’s nothing like love to screw up an aura.’

‘I haven’t worked out if it’s love. I don’t know what she wants. She doesn’t seem interested, but every time we’re near each other, it’s like the air between us is electrified. Or maybe it’s just my imagination.’

‘And you want to analyse and compartmentalise, like you’re carrying out a police investigation.’

‘I’m not sure about that,’ Daníel said, thinking to himself for a moment. ‘I’d like to know if she feels the same, if she senses the charge as strongly as I do.’

‘You’ll feel better when you realise that, in reality, the fundamentals of existence are totally incomprehensible and chaotic, completely crazy,’ Lady said. ‘And nothing fun or beautiful comes of anything that can be organised.’

‘As usual, I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about,’ Daníel said.

‘No, you aren’t the sharpest chisel in the toolbox,’ Lady said, sniffing with disdain, although Daníel saw a friendlier expression than usual on Lady’s face. ‘What I mean is that you need to loosen your grip and go with the flow. Don’t apply pressure or try to influence the way events turn out. Just let things happen.’

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