When you shaved your head I found a mark, like the one on Gorbatchov’s head. We drank so much wine through our lives, is it possible the wine now wants to come back through the skin? What scars of mine would you find if I was as naked as you? Now you've shaved your head, you look as you’ve told me everything that you have ever hidden. Hope I'll never be this ill, I don't want to spill the truth, I don't want to spill the wine.