Eight stories at the daily rhythm, at street pace narrate the complex, painful and luminous human plots. Hands which do the washing up, which fondle, which hit… talks in a bank, in a cage, in bed… children, boyfriends, workers, nannies, lazy people, birds and artichokes. A reality torn to pieces with skill and tenderness by one of the most witty authoresses of the Mexican literature. Poniatowska claims in this book her condition of watchwoman, of a bird which observes in silence to sing afterwards.
