One rainy autumn day, the garden of the villa, magnificent in the spring, appeared suddenly hostile, with its dry leaves and brambles that have grown dramatically. So I imagined how the relationships between my main characters – living in happiness when spending time outdoors - could grow worse because of bad weather: prisoners in a small house, away from town, each one with their load of regrets, and unable to stifle them.

From there, juxtaposing real life and the essential tutelary gods – here certainly Hitchcock and Philip K. Dick, openly mentioned – the layers started to unfold: a collage of “different voices”, à la manière de T. S. Eliot, to whom I owe symphonic structure and symbols.

From "The Waste Land" comes the contrast between the arid urban alienation and the springtime regeneration of nature, more cruel if the winter left in our hearts. From "Four Quartets" our scenario: here is the body of water where lotus flowers rise in the sunlight, here is the rose garden, in "Second Spring" silent witness of a hug after a playful chase. That apparent serenity hides Hikma's unease for the prolonged absence of Riccardo, returned without her knowledge in the arms of Rosanna, but also Andrea's concern: he's finally aware that the rose garden is accessed, as Eliot suggests, through the door we never opened…

(f. c.)