Synopsis

He doesn't envy billionaires or successful, beautiful people; he envies the man who always manages to sleep. He's never had the talent for sleeping, and it's all down to strong emotions. The house his father left him is slowly sliding down a landslide; the cracks are widening a tenth of a millimeter every day, and his eighty-year-old mother refuses to budge. He's forced to yell, threatening to send her to a nursing home, to convince her to move to the city with him. He never wants to do that, especially the nursing home thing. He knows full well he doesn't have the money to pay the fees. Some evenings, to calm himself, he tries reading a book, listening to Schumann, or opening the refrigerator. If he's really down, the only way out is to go out. In Pesaro, after dinner, the only thing open is the betting shop; and after losing half his salary, all he can do is get in his car and drive to Romagna for a beer. In the bar, a blonde smiles at him and sits down next to him. She has a name that's hard to pronounce, and a beauty that everyone loves; he invites her to dinner, gives her a dress that's worth every penny on her. With her, his sight trumps all others, and he no longer feels any pain. They say drugs are bad, but the problem is that everything here is a drug. After ten kilometers of separation, he already feels a terrible loss in his stomach. He can't breathe, and that means he's fallen into a woman's addiction. It's the necessary things that hurt the most. Even the sun, even wine, even women. A very tender and very funny story of a man of today who feels the ground beneath his feet.