Piero was walking through the streets of Sicily at midnight, people say it's not safe to be alone in South Italy during the night. But he felt so anxious and impotent that he needed a time alone... time to think.
He was having an amazing time in his sister wedding when his brother in law asked him: "Kiddo, are you happy?" and at first he thought the answer was easy and obvious... but then the words that came out of his mouth caused something weird, and he realized "I'm good" is not the same as"I'm happy". So with a politely smile he went outside to smoke a cigarette... and two minutes later he was walking through an empty alley going nowhere.
He made himself the question again, am I happy? And a sequence of scenes started to appear in his mind: His huge apartment in New York City, his job as co-owner of his brother company, the tons of useless money in his account, his "friends". No, that wasn't happy for him... but then he thought about his last week in Italy: The beach house, his family, the old bakery, the town and his childhood friends, Martina...
He stopped, looked at the empty streets, heard the sound of the ocean and smelled the pure air of the night.
He was happy there, in Sicily, in the country that saw him born... he was happy in Italy.