In a bedroom, perched on the edge of an unmade double bed, a man looks out of a large window at the falling snow. Next to him lies a woman. In the background, an open door leads onto a corridor. A blackbird settles on the windowsill and strikes up a song which, little by little, comes to form a melody over which the man recites a spoken monologue. The man tells of the killings he has carried out: those of his son, his daughter and his wife in their sleep; lastly, he describes his own suicide. Little by little, from behind the doorway – one at a time – his son and daughter appear, and likewise his wife sits up in bed on the last line, serving as a chorus. Once the story is over, the blackbird flies away and the man goes back to looking out of the window.