With this script, the second after the peacock's tail, the poet Marco Boietti illuminates the reflector on the apparent tranquility of a common suburban dream that every day he finds himself at the table for breakfast, lunch and dinner; and does so with some skill descriptive, abandoning his usual poetic language - of which, however, still echoes in never predictable combinations lexical - to make room for a creative prose, most effective tool in the rendering of the characters.

Rather laconic, locked in their pre-established roles, the protagonists of this game of words actually conceal secrets and bitterness that the exchange of short phrases seems to awaken in their hearts (Elena Pozzi).