Lia Piano writes a novel populated by unforgettable characters, those with the “slightly peculiar expression” of people who grew up between the mountains and the sea, but also those who are quieter, like the furniture and plants we surround ourselves with. She guides us with a dance-like step through an enchanting, melancholic, and exhilarating novel, which, in recounting the stages of a renovation, speaks to us of the care of the human heart, and, following its protagonist as she grapples with the difficulties of life, reminds us that it is often necessary to lose ourselves in order to find ourselves again.

“Dreams, especially beautiful ones, are unreliable. And waking up can be abrupt.” The protagonist of this novel is a witty woman who lives life intensely and, precisely for this reason, has learned that dreams, including love, bring as much joy as disappointment and must be handled with caution. She, for example, is going through a difficult time: she feels that her job, her home, and even her own body no longer resemble her, and dating apps and plastic surgeons' advice seem like disturbing illusions. But fate has a surprise in store: her very sour Aunt Laura, who has always cordially detested her, decides to leave her a large house perched on a Ligurian terrace sloping down to the sea, as well as the money to renovate it. It seems like a dream, but it is not: and it has new twists in store. Thus begins a period of building permits, discouraging emails from the engineer saying ‘It can't be done’, and, above all, more or less temporary moves to apartments that are more or less welcoming but all capable of bringing with them new revelatory encounters, teaching her what it takes to truly feel at home.