In the garage at the back of the family home sits Primo’s father’s pride and joy; a red Fiat 500 Classic. Bambino. It waits amongst the dust motes for Primo’s father to recover, to come out of his paranoia and delusions. It waits and teases, like nothing else can – least of all the demands of everyday life, for things to return to normal. 
And that isn’t going to happen any time soon . . .