Dukla is a sleepy little town in southern Poland, on the edge of the Carpathians. In the marketplace, all the emptiness of the world has gathered, and a wind blows that comes straight from Alaska and Siberia. Dukla, with its crumbling walls and the castle of the Princes of Brühl, the two Baroque churches, and the burned-down synagogue, is a place that exerts a magical attraction on the narrator. As if compelled, he keeps returning there from all directions, at all times of day and night. What he has been so far is gently and radically questioned by Dukla.