out how you’re doing. How’s your campaign going? And, by the way, where is your friend… Antonio, I think. Stallion! An Italian thoroughbred stallion!’

‘A stallion in Italy.’

‘You mean in Italy?’

‘Antonio, Mom, is in Italy now. Do you need him for any reason?’

‘No, my boy. That’s just my way. Well, is everything going according to the plan?’

‘Yes, exactly.’

‘I’m very happy for you.’

‘It’s too early to celebrate yet. There are still four months to go until the end of the campaign.’

‘Of course. I remember, Robert. Tell me, do you have any kind of contingency plan?’ she gestured quotation marks. ‘How do you plan to solve problems, should they arise, of course?’

Robert took a deep breath and looked at his mother:

‘I’m working on it.’

‘I want to tell you, my boy, that I think the risks are minimal.’

"If unforeseen circumstances hadn’t interfered with my plans, Mom, there would have been nothing to solve.’

‘There’s nothing to discuss here, Robert. There are things—, she looked at him and shifted her gaze to the window, in which the golden foliage on the trees were rhythmically counting down the remaining hours until the end of autumn. ‘You know, because I never told you. When I was little, almost like that little girl, I also found myself in a similar situation. And you know, my boy, no one came to my help then.’

There was dead silence in the room.

‘Well, that was a long time ago,’ she said cheerfully. ‘I have been living in this world for almost 150 years. And I’ve seen a lot. It is, what it is. I want to tell you that I hardly see any risks.’

‘There are risks,’ Robert replied. ‘And they’re rather high. I am a public person. My voice sounds often, and it can be heard. This may be the main problem that needs to be solved. That’s how I see the situation now.’

Getting up from the chair and coming up to the door, the mother turned to him:

‘I will love and protect you always, as it has been in any circumstances, my dear boy,’ she quietly closed the door.

Robert was sitting at the table for a some time, staring into an empty aquarium, where two fish were lying on the bottom. The sticker he left a few days ago was still on the glass: Do not feed! RGR.

Before: Weather

‘Rob… Robin! Robin!… What’s going on?!’ Igor was desperately trying to get through to his daughter. Music was thundering all over the house, its destructive source was obvious to be somewhere above. Boom-boom-boom… Igor, jumping two steps at a time on a narrow staircase, dashed onto the second floor. BOOM-BOOM-BOOM! The sounds from the daughter’s room were taring apart the entire space around. A bit more and the foam blocks of the outer walls will begin to crumble like sand. Igor stopped in front of a shut door and, with his eyes closed, began to inhale deeply and exhale slowly: Deep breath and exhale… Inhale and exhale. Now I’m ready.

‘Robin!’ Igor knocked loudly and persistently on the door. The music stopped, and everything appeared to be at a standstill. A blissful silence reigned.

Robin opened the door:

‘Oh, hi, Dad. I didn’t think… I didn’t know you were back yet. Everything’s fine? You’re kind of worried.’

‘Robin, please, if you want to listen to your music… no one would restrict you. Listen. I am asking just one question: why do you think that our neighbours share your musical preferences? Have you run a survey? Do people like… I don’t know what this group is called or what it is in general…’

‘Dad, I’ve got you. But when all the receptors are working, not only the ear nerve endings, you perceive the artwork in full. Would you agree?’ sitting at a table littered with God knows what, Robin started typing something on her tablet.

‘Robin, this is a very interesting theory. But please, may I ask you to respect others at least for the sake of your own safety. Deal?’

‘Okay, Dad.’

‘Are you all right?’ Igor breathed out.

‘Yes, everything is fine. Why?’

‘I need to take some papers with me to the lab. I’ll be leaving in a couple of minutes.’

Igor cast a quick glance around his daughter’s room: Everything as usual: a mess, a mess and complete chaos. A poster with someone unknown was attached with white tape to the wall: a guy wearing make-up, in a torn T-shirt and zebra-print leggings was shouting something at the top of his voice, as if trying to escape from the wonderland of the poster, in which he found himself against his will. He wanted to get out and be with you. Igor shook his head, trying to get rid of the obsession. Robin’s clothes were scatered everywhere—on the bed, on the armchair, the leg of jeans hung from the closet. He came over and started pulling on the jeans off the door of the closet.

‘What are you doing?! Don’t do it, please!’ Robin, noticing what her father was about to do, protested loudly. Clothes fall on him from the closet, including sweatshirts, socks and underwear.

‘My God… Robin… I understand everything, of course… But you have a closet here!’

‘Don’t touch anything here! Is that clear?!’

Retreating, and nearly leaving the room, Igor briefly mentioned addressing his daughter:

‘And why did you turn on the air conditioner? I know it’s summer outside. But we don’t get above five degrees here.’

‘A complete copy of the mother,’ Igor reflected. ‘Distracted, unfocused and disorganized as her mother. Just emotions, and everything is on the verge. All or nothing. Music—making the whole village listen. Getting ready for exams—nothing else happen to exist around. No food, no father, no friends.’ Approaching the stairs, Igor looked at the closed door on the left. Holding the handle of the