Circus, pierced right through the theater. or perhaps vice versa?
Eachone will have its own Meaning..  laught, tears, joy and sorrow, sadness and melancholy and quite an unusual situation: it seems that this story is close to you that many of the ideas are similar to yours ... But there is no history, just small sketches, as different days in the life of one man - unlike each other ...

"Steffanio, он так похож на нашу бабушку... у него золотое сердце... He likes the same things, you know?... Он любит белые тарелки... No es ahora!!pronto!pronto! ¡Esto es simplemente insoportable!! это ведь была его идея... одеть эти белые юбки на прошлогодний карнавал... и не важно, что мы не заняли призовых мест... It doesn't matter! главное, что мы были вместе... и нам было весело! ведь это CARNIVAL!!
...Our grandma... всегда говорила... не важно, насколько тебе плохо... насколько тебе тяжело и как низко ты упал... никогда не смотри вниз... подними голову выше...higher!  подними ее к небу... и оттуда придет счастье...небо всегда поможет тебе..."

the fog ... silence ... and the snow began to fall...

A Word from Daniele Finzi Pasca
The fog that would float down when we visited my grandparents would swallow up the entire house. The neighborhood disappeared, followed by the entire village. Standing on the living room balcony, I would spy on the void and when the sky was very low, I would see strange things. The waves of the sea came to lick at the garden gate and hallucinations paraded along the row of poplar trees. I'd watch as lovers chased after one another. I'd see camels, elephants, soldiers returning from war… Once, I even saw myself float by. I was all grown up, driving a red truck. It was often, or should I say always, a carnival...