All roads lead to small or large squares. There, people go slowly or quickly to confront their life and destiny. To meet other people, to communicate, to collaborate or even to clash. In the squares, the "self" meets, coming unsuspecting from its nest, with other "selves". There is a strict mirror that illuminates differently the idol that each one has created for themselves. In the squares, which are also schools of life, disappointments begin, adventures unfold, and everyday stories are written or started, because people measure their strength and endurance precisely in the mingling and interaction with others, until each hero truly knows themselves...

Most of the stories in this book, therefore, happen, start or end in a square, on a road, in a camp, in a house where many have gathered. They were written for relaxation, but they are also cherished memories. The landscape is not urban, but provincial. These are humble and perhaps entertaining stories, just as the heroes we will meet in these stories are popular, humble, and entertaining, and most of them have a true basis. Essentially, we observe small details of life, neglected incidents, condemned to be forgotten and lost if not saved by the pen of a writer who coincidentally takes part, is close by, or hears about various events from others, while an important source for several stories is the paradisiacal source of childhood.

The environment of these small stories is unique, which is why I have enlisted a dose of theatricality in the narratives. The setting is not abstract and fluid but stable, and the dialogues highlight the wise legacy of this environment. We are not dealing with major events, but with those that only poetry deigns to acknowledge precisely because they have a different essence. They do not burden the grand history at all, but only the soul, because the events we will witness are exactly that. Tender and sensitive, like colorful butterflies flying invisibly under the veils of memory...