My worst part describes an intensely personal and inexorably, irremediably political affair. A "training novel" focused on growth, maturation, the ancient struggle for resistance to the progressive shattering of illusions. The parable of love becomes here a universal category of social-relational integration. Through the precise narration of the spasmodic research of the loved one, which is after all an identity research on the field - along a time span ranging from early youth to maturity - a conflictual relationship with society is represented, and personal growth coincides with a process of estrangement and fierce criticism. The protagonist sees gradually fading the expectations of his youth in the daily struggle for survival and in fact he perceives himself, relationships, belonging, and the world around, as if in a boil. Political leave seems the only answer: the substantial leave from the ritual dynamics of this crazed world, from it's perverted productive and financial logics; from the ballot boxes; from it's cultural and cult cages. Because it does not mean going out defeated or "broken" after the extraversion, it does not mean "unplugging". It rather marks the transition to a higher level of awareness, expressing a rejection of shared rules in which the greatest contradictions of our time are reflected. A multidimensional story that lives, quivers, pulsates, roots, surfaces, emerges from the territory (one of the first songs is sung entirely in dialect), to hover over the bell towers, churches, over the chimneys, the scrub, aiming at synthesis; to the codification of a universal sense. From a musical point of view it is a substantially acoustic album mainly focused on piano and guitar, but also percussion, bass, drums, accordion, chalumeau, synth, slide guitar, theremin, double bass. The arrangements, the result of close collaboration between the Author and Cristò Chiapparino, are designed to be meaningful but not invasive, and above all not divergent with respect to the narrative.