It is the last night of the year, the last morning of the year is creeping up behind the skyscrapers glittering with false lights. The Christmas tree lights an afterglow of the holy day. Everyone is asleep, even the baby. I am sitting up alone, in the perfect solitude of the hour of monks, thinking about a Russian gambling addict and thinking about the concept of a human being, yes, a flesh and blood human being, rising from the dead.
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