We see an artist and his fictional character. It is hard to distinguish the difference between him and his creation. How ambivalent is this relation for the person behind artist/artistic figure? 

In the moments when he loves or hates himself, whom does he actually love or hate? Which fractions are still real, and how often does he ask himself? Who am I? Is it me?

How is this artistic character perceived from the outside? In the end, isn’t it just a product, a soft good, a purchasable item? It could simply be reduced to a barcode. However, each barcode that can be found on every book is a compilation of an enormous number of chapters, pages, numbers and letters. Just like every individual.