"One was jumping with military prowess over a thing like a wind chip that had been peeled off with the help of a lasso from the tallest bar on the neighbor's roof. Another was practicing war dance on the giant neighbor's garden thermometer. Some ...
"One was jumping with military prowess over a thing like a wind chip that had been peeled off with the help of a lasso from the tallest bar on the neighbor's roof. Another was practicing war dance on the giant neighbor's garden thermometer. Someone perched on a staircase peering into the enemy's flowerbed with zucchini. One was bouncing around on the edge of his plot and milling the hostile atmosphere with a whirlwind whistling louder than a circus whip. Another had lighted next to the front line a fire with a god knows what kind of rubbish and tossed the filthy smoke in the direction of the enemy with one of those hell engines, usually swirling for unknown reasons on the roads, and not just there, dry leaves with dust and all kinds of rubbish and eject them into the atmosphere. It was a season of adventure. But they were used to it. It would never end. "
The story of a lonely actress, from day one, from morning until late at night. Walking in a big city in summer, from the outskirts to its varied centers. Meetings with runners, homeless people, peculiar couples, a priest, police officers. A march through neighborhood conflicts and hostilities, in front of huge screens of politicians, then between subway passengers from another world.
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