Everything happens in a confined area: a theater built in a wintery piece of land. The space of the story represents the memory of Pinuccia: a continuous influx of images where spaces vary in the time of mental imagination. Holes dig in the earth that substitute rooms; improbable transformations, mutating roles and characters. In this land of imagination it's easy to stumble, to lose oneself, like Pinuccia, in a flux that has little logic or concreteness.