After "moments of negligible happiness", Francesco Piccolo returns to tell the joy of the moments of which life is made, but this time try to take them from the wrong side. Setting the days until you find out how every master, even the most boundy, he hides something priceless: a foupling spark of fun and vitality. Whether it's been sharing the umbrella with someone, tearing out of your kind to find yourself both wet downstairs. Or to admit that we don't remember anything about what we have learned at school, that children's recites are a mortal boredom, and that we do not love our children in the same way, simply because they are different. Not to mention the moral obligation to take a shower as soon as you arrive by a friend, who wants to or not - at the end only to reassure the other that you wash. Or too polite people who keep your door open, forcing yourself to hasten the step. Everyone experiences every day a thousand negligible forms (and not irrelevant) of unhappiness. But the doubt arises that it is "like Shanghai's sticks: if I pulled away the thing I really like about the person I love, if I too would like the one I like best".