I don't seem to notice her all day. She is part of the interior. First, topless on a yacht, and then on the beach, tanned, in drops of salt water with a coconut and a straw in her hands.

- Denis, come here, - Yulka calls me.

I come up and sit next to her right on the white sand. I watch the waves of the Indian Ocean wash her legs. Of the clothes on her, only the glasses that I gave her.

“Let’s go to breakfast,” I ask, although I have no idea what time it is, morning, afternoon or evening. But it gets darker here quickly, almost instantly....