Jimmy stands frozen by the counter.

Instinctively, he puts on his sunglasses.

Fred is standing still behind him among the shelves. He must have heard everything, because he finds himself staring at Jimmy’s back. Feeling uncomfortable as Jimmy, he says nothing and merely focuses on the actor’s shoulders.

44

Jimmy and Fred are walking along a beautiful path through the Alpine countryside.

They are silent, wrapped up in the sounds of cicadas and distant cowbells.

“What do you do all day, Fred?”

“I don’t do a thing, so they say I’m apathetic.”

“Don’t you miss working?”

“Not at all. I’ve worked too much.”

“So what do you miss, then?”

“My wife. I miss my wife, Melanie.”

“I read on Wikipedia that you hung around with Stravinsky when you were a young man.”

“True.”

“What was he like, Stravinsky?”

“He was a very quiet man.”

“Quiet? Is that all? Come on, give me a bit more, Fred. I need friends who can give me something. Tell me something about him.”

“He once said that intellectuals have no taste. From that day forward I’ve done everything I can not to be an intellectual. And I think I’ve succeeded.”

Jimmy says nothing. They continue to walk in silence.

“And you? What do you miss?”

“Fortunately, nothing.”

“Come on, Jimmy, give me something more.”

Jimmy smiles, as if caught in flagrante. “I discovered what I miss four months ago reading Novalis.”

Fred looks surprised. “You’ve read Novalis?”

“Apart from getting drunk, snorting coke and dating anorexic models, actors in California also sometimes read Novalis,” Jimmy replies in jest.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I’m an old man full of prejudices. And what did Novalis say?”

“‘I am always going home, always to my father’s house.’”

45

Mark Kozelek presses PLAY on an iPod linked up to a pair of speakers and the soft notes of a synthesiser fill the room. The piece is slow and hypnotic. Kozelek’s friends concentrate and listen closely to the music. Outside on the terrace of the suite, Jimmy Tree is lying on a sunbed. He is also listening to the piece. He is smoking a cigarette, which he then extinguishes in a cup of tisane. Mark Kozelek comes out and lies down on a sunbed next to him.

“Do you like the piece? I composed it yesterday. It’s called ‘Ceiling Gazing’.”

Jimmy’s reply is sincere. “It’s wonderful, Mark.”

Mark’s singing is added to the synthesiser. A romantic voice that sends tingles down the spine.

46

In her room the petite and shy masseuse is gently dancing around. She is playing the Xbox game, but has changed the steps of the dance.

47

The South American is on the balcony in his briefs, half lying on the sun lounger. At his feet, his wife is massaging his huge, painful legs.

His gaze is lost over the valley. All of a sudden, he experiences a vision. Huge floodlights switch on, like those in a football stadium, and he sees twenty-two men split into two formations. One line of eleven wears the Argentinian strip, the other the England strip.