I started reading under the impression that this was a good book, as Enrique Vila-Matas referred to it (almost endlessly) in Paris no se acaba nunca”. I managed to hold my breath and try to appreciate the originality of a book that kills its readers. Then it all fell apart. What started out as a novice idea turned into a boring and almost nightmarish twist of events. As much as I enjoyed reading “Paris no se acaba nunca”, I just wanted this one to be done with. One point for originality, zero for content.