A seagull flies.  He lands on an island previously populated with noises coming from a former nightclub. 
White wants to express the voice and blue permeates faded colored clothes. Silence will leave room for imagination and reflections for talkative silences. Bricks, concrete and a lot of willpower make a home. And it's a coming and going. First of bricklayers, then of tourists.

Some people think they know everything and that's all they know. They come, they go, they leave, they return. “The clock is ticking,” they say. It's not true that they don't have time, and if they had time they would prove it...

Others don't know, or know they don't know. They can stay if they want. They have landed, like the seagull. They made a home. There, on that island, the one identified by the seagull.

9 families will banish the memory of the noise by whispering inside 9 new homes converted from an old nightclub. They know the difference between trendiness and beauty; they know that the first is ephemeral, the other is lasting. Now they can listen to the sound of silence and find perfect harmony. Now they know that imagining is more important than knowing.  Now they know that happiness is hidden everywhere and that it is enough to find it to enjoy the little things, because one day we will look back and realize that those little things were big. Then the bricklayer, the guest and the traveler will speak. But no one will remember the past words of a simple architect, who tried to make a distinction between construction and creation by stating, among the various noises, that "a constructed thing can be loved only after it has been built, but a created thing is loved before exists."