We are two bodies filled with traumas that were never appropriately treated. I feel guilty for not having taken you out of Sarajevo during the war. That’s why I’ve been indulging you all these years, fulfilling your wishes and protecting you. And I know that this doesn’t do you any good: all these years I have been weighing you down with care and supervision, I’m a burden that slows you down and from which you would, probably, gladly free yourself, but nevertheless you put up with me. My additional problem is the way in which your PTSD manifests itself. You are attracted to danger, and that’s a consequence of the war, adrenaline dependency. That’s why you spend whole nights in empty spaces, under the stars, meeting people there who have their own reasons for insomnia. Everyone here is armed. The world is a dangerous place. I, too, am a frightened man. Perhaps you should have a dog to be near you on these nights and look after you. A German shepherd? A husky would suit you, one with blue eyes. Two wolves in the desert! I’ll bring you a puppy to grow up beside you. And I’ll buy a bandana, which you could tie around his neck. Maybe blue? To go with his eyes . . .