Paola Tortora

In a dilapidated Neapolitan apartment furnished in punk style, a dysfunctional extended family takes center stage. Amidst arguments, reconciliations, tensions, and clarifications, on the night the Berlin Wall falls, Erri Gargiulo, a shy and unambitious forty-year-old, decides to tear down his own personal walls and turn his life around.

Sergio driving a taxi in a white Naples overflowing sadness and garbage. Pouring rain leads her clients through the city trying to process the death of his brother, who started ten years earlier for Tibet and never returned. A pop singer, a recycler of fragments of life, a radio announcer, an old uncle, alternate seats on its bearing, each in its own way, a trace of his brother loved. Stubborn not to go over and get lost in an endless race, Sergio is overwhelmed by memories and the music produced in pairs with Alfredo, which in Buddhism and in its foundations had found the strength to cope with the disease. Those notes that he believed buried and laid to always return overbearing and demanding a soundboard that resonate and express his being sound. Putting his hand on the piano, Sergio Alfredo feel again, giving the past with the present and realizing itself in the feeling.