Tells the story of an unnamed pen case painter, the narrator, who sees in
his macabre, feverish nightmares that the presence of death annihilates
all that is imaginary. We are the offspring of death and death delivers us
from the tantalizing, fraudulent attractions of life; it is death that
beckons us from the depths of life. If at times we come to a halt, we do so
to hear the call of death... Throughout our lives, the finger of death
points at us. The narrator addresses his murderous confessions to the
shadow on his wall resembling an owl. His confessions do not follow a
linear progression of events and often repeat and layer themselves
thematically, thus lending to the open-ended nature of interpretation of
the story.