A melancholic, aspiring writer and bookseller is shaken by the appearances and disappearances of his newfound muse who steals books from his bookstore. Soon he discovers that she steals in other bookstores as well, and is consumed with jealousy. He starts to live in a kind of loving delirium, on the border between fiction and reality, but the closer he gets to her, the more indescribable she becomes: Why does she steal and what are her values? Who is the older man she lives with? Will he accept this man who occupies his space? What is true or apocryphal in this story? And, in the end, will he conquer a place in her life as he moves away from his own?