"If there is something I hate are the proverbs. What I hate more than all in particular is: 'There is always a first time'. Yes, it's true, a first time there is always, but usually not It's a lot. The last few times are much more important. In reality, life is just an incredible collection of 'last times'. The last time you sing a lullaby, the last time you go out of your gate school, the last time you kiss the person you love, the last time you fall asleep without the need for the valium. But there is never anyone to warn you that what you are living is the last time, indeed, usually not you not even realize it. The fact is that when you are little you believe that everything should have and that everything remains exactly like when you are three years old: the relatives that make you the photos, the gifts and are obsessed with the fact that you sleep, eat e Caghi, and it's all a smile, beat your hands and make stupid faces. Then, however, comes a day when you can died suffocated in your vomit Or and no one cares more a dry fig, so you are alone to shout: 'Hei! Is anybody there?' So you understand that, or you go well everything that comes later, or you can shoot yourself a blow. Cynical? No, realist. But perhaps it is the case that I start from the beginning. "Andrea was five years old when his father went like a thief leaving him hostage of seven females: the hyperprotective mother, three out of control sisters, the grandmother genius of physics, la Cinica Caregiver Stanka ... until Giulia arrives one day.