Mr. Edison, tired and stressed-out as usual, spends the night at his habitual hotel. The receptionist welcomes him as always with an ambiguous smile that promises more than will be delivered. But there’s something wrong with the picture hanging on the wall of his room, room 209. Something that distracts him from business, from his pile of papers, and leads him to dream, to imagine that the woman in white sitting on the edge of a bed, in a room identical to his own, is someone he has already seen, already talked to, already… |
