“A man, an actor. The story he will tell is that of a man who, from a normal life – a job, a family, friends – ends up on the street, sleeping on a bench, wearing worn-out shoes and an old tuxedo jacket... We will never know the man’s real name; he calls himself Zorro, like the puppy that an unfaithful friend stole from him as a child. His story is one of trauma and pain, but it is also imbued with sudden and harsh irony. Zorro dances at night and walks during the day, putting himself in the path of ‘normal’ people (he calls them ‘cormorants’), following them but without aggression, unmasking their hypocrisy, their emotional automatisms, their hidden insecurities, causing a tragicomic short circuit between the character and the audience. And the actor? Yes, because the other unsuspected tramp in this story is the actor himself, whose life closely resembles that of a wanderer. Zorro’s words are viral and, like a virus, they infect the psyche of the protagonist, who tells the story every evening, city after city, theater after theater. The story of the tramp, the audience sitting in the theater, and the actor.”