`Perhaps, when we lie broken, a wind will carry us? Each day is somewhat lighter than the last. In the air, in the wind I sign my name.'
   

In Urwind, on the face of it a simple tale of a Helsinki antiquarian bookseller whose wife has abandoned him, there is a complex layering of experience, past and present. The telling is more a matter of inner than outer events-intimate, rapt.

In the `ur-vind', or primordial attic, are stored not only relics from the story-teller's past, but also memories of the neighbours, friends and relations who inhabited the apartment house in which he was brought up. The `ur-vind' is also the cosmic wind, blowing from beyond the reassuring walls of houses and apartments. And it is the story-teller's name Daniel Urwind, in whom is focused a wealth of literary and artistic allusions and antecedents that include the Merz-Bau of Kurt Schwitters, the paintings of
Caezanne and the fiction of Kafka.