Paris, April 1750. The city is panicked: for some time there are mysterious kidnappings of children. In a condominium of the city of Lucca, at the end of the 1900s, a similar episode takes place: two children, suddenly, disappear. Everything stagnates, everything is arid and atrophied in an aggressive and convenient microcosm, characterized by provisionality and cynicism, populated by personal identity, intimidated, incapable of authentic relationships, prisoners of forms of partial knowledge and contradictory. Immobilized in a cyclical repetitiveness, everything seems to have simultaneous existence: life and death end up confuse. At the density of style, fragmentaryity, a linguistic experimentation contributes to the Farseco straining that mixes jargon and literary references, bureaucrats and dialect, essentiality and details. Between disgust and compassion for human weaknesses, a painful tension runs throughout the novel, evoking the sense of artificiality of the real: the present as if it had already passed.