Il colore della terra, il profumo del pane   

“Così come fa il sacro albero Baniàn, i rami della mia vita si sono chinati verso la terra per riemergere nuovamente alla luce e puntare dritti al cielo”…
A family saga, emblem of the memory from the birth of united Italy up to nowadays, a parallel trip in female and male psyche, the novel winds along scents and sounds, in a separate development that will carry man from the birth of political and social awareness to an intimate fall under the weight of his own contradictions, and woman from angel of home, the rock which strengthens the lives of others, to free author of her fate.
The dignity that impregnates cookery, roots, which ooze in the earth’s colours, dance with nomadism owing to need or fantasy, in a see-saw that is already the dawning of modern globalization.

I facitori del tempo   

In a mysterious and magical environment, a Boboli garden softened with a deep fog which keeps out a Florence distressed by mass tourism, Nanà discovers life. Love and death told to teens and to everyone who loves to be carried away in childhood memories.

Lo strano caso dei non scomparsi   

“There are two ways of getting rich quick: bank robbery and the lottery. The first is illegal, the second is allowed. Of the two groups of people who suddenly become rich, we are interested in the second.
Statistics show that there is an extremely high incidence of suicide among the winners of huge sums in lotteries. Therefore there’s a group of people who parade their sudden riches and the consequent change in lifestyle. Or there are the ones who go to enjoy their fortune far away from those they had to put up with till then. Finally there is also a group of humans about whom we know absolutely nothing, who continue their previous life unperturbed. They are among us, paying no attention to the fact that their everyday clothes could become a disguise. This is their tale.

Il libro dei petti di pollo   

A psychological survey about a perverted cook interpreted through his recipes, a trip into wickedness, and an attempt to exorcise it, because from our drifting barge we don’t see any sign of redemption on the horizon …