Look, I'm leaving

Shattered families and bleak everyday interiors at the heart of a hyper-realistic urban scenario. There are people who make up names and stories for themselves. Men who leave, fathers who leave, women who leave, women who stay and get in the way. People who are about to say I love you or the opposite and who incessantly ask themselves what in the world it means. Today's love and that of tomorrow. The "I don't knows." One, two escapes abroad. And ultimately a greeting. A promise. A docking. So that the search for oneself calms down for a moment, only to start up once more, working itself up again in a feverish stile like the frenetic lives that the author narrates without haste.