Una has lung cancer, and just days to live. "I have friends and family ... I have money.
There is nothing wrong with me except I am dying."
She comes to Berlin, for her first and last time, and with friend, fellow-writer and narrator Liam, explores the city. They're chauffeured to the Botanic Gardens, Unter den Linden, the Einstein Cafe, KaDeWe Department Store, a war memorial holding all the guilt in the world.
Una has flown in from Dublin with a written itinerary. Most imperatively, she wants to attend the Berlin Opera and Verdi's Don Carlos, whose story of brutality and betrayal between generations evokes her own family.
So it's a journey also through the dying woman's life, one about which she talks incessantly. "I can no more stay silent than a horse can run backwards." Her narratives and revelations to Liam scour with utter honesty; there's no time left for evasion or euphemism. She recalls her famous father and drink-wrecked mother; the wretched death of a younger brother; her grab-bag of lovers ("It was delicious"). She moves Liam to make his own confessions. As the words pour, time alters: they have hardly any, yet all there is in the world.