Julia took a glass of water and returned to the room, sat at the window with a sheet of paper and a black pen and started drawing. She drew the building before her, window by window, the cornices, the terraces, the balconies, the skylights, the arboreal decorations of the façade, drew the well in the center of the square and a seagull on the well, exactly where it was. She squinted her eyes until the landscape appeared flattened, two-dimensional. She would look at a building once and then draw for hours every detail from her memory. A second look would confuse her and add nothing to the image she saw clearly while she drew. She did not have much appetite and she happened to fall asleep suddenly during the day, on a table, on a chair, even on the floor. In the morning however, she woke up very early and was always ready with a drawing pad before dawn. When every view from every window was reproduced Julia left the house one morning, without saying a word, left the house and crossed the square, and rang the doorbell of a woman who spent all day at the window. The woman named Aurora lived alone in a big house with many windows and Julia asked if she could draw the view from each. Aurora agreed, provided Julia would work silently. Julia stopped falling asleep in the afternoon since then and was able to work all day. She brought rice cooked with vegetables, for herself and for Aurora, and ate when her hand ached or when her lines became insecure. Views from the windows revealed hanging gardens, the constant movement of the airships, the different slopes of the tiled roofs like waves. In the evening Julia would go to sleep early and she dreamed of drawing the entire city, every corner of every island, to memorize the names of all the islands and get to know each of the inhabitants of the city.