If I go out I get lost

She recounts, whimsically, snippets of existence, without restraint and with greed, her time and hers, "little people", as they say: school pieces, choruses of popular songs, neighborhood cinema and her heroes, wars, a filthy husband, the harshness of her work as a worker. But for her grandson, she is much more than that: she is his heroine, his nurturing grandmother, his lady at heart. Between them, it's a love that we don't know how to say, that we show by preparing small dishes and telling each other bizarre stories. So many stories that "tumble" and that the narrator grandson scrupulously records in a notebook. Throughout the pages, the gushing and generous writing marries the fleeing memory. It is also the invention of a language that composes the portrait of a flamboyant grandmother.