It was carnival. As every year we went back up to the roof to keep digging for old clothes that we keep to disguise of farrovello. In doing so, the memories resurface as when one looks at the vintage photograph of the cigar box. Same clothes have not wrinkles there. They are new, whit stiff pose in front of the camera, but now they are old rags with story that we wear without rules to transform us into a comical who laugh of others, of oneself and the past ... It is a good thing for this holidays.