Fletch. Until last week, he was just another mild-mannered reporter fighting for truth, justice and a window office. Now he's being threatened, shot at, accused and arrested. And that's by the people he's trying to help. But there's still one thing even more dangerous than his work. His love life.

As for the apostolic epistles, what person who is skilled in literary interpretation would think them to be plain and easily understood, when even in them there are thousands of passages that provide, as it through a window, a narrow opening leading to multitudes of the deepest thoughts?

There was a girl called Nanibala... ...used to live in a ladies' hostel. The whole day... sitting by the window... ...she used to bite her nails! I will never forget Nanibala.

Who sits alone by the bright window?
My shadow and I, only we two.
But the lamp burns out, there is darkness.
Even my shadow forsakes me.
Alas, alas!
I am forlorn!