A writer visits the Spanish island where his friend André Steenkamp, who was also a writer, has spent his last months. The purpose of his visit to the island is to finish the book that Steenkamp was working on – and to recreate "by all means, even lies and tricks" that last period of his life. Gradually, the story of the remarkable events so strongly prevails that the narrative figure is completely pushed into the background: the last months, the ridiculous love and destruction, the death of André Steenkamp actually happen, and the book is written. Only then is the first writer back to pass judgment on the pathetic, failed life of his friend. But is this a correct assessment? Did his friend die? Is the book written?
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