Maraini uses language and stylistics, rather than description, to define her three women protagonists. Lori, the youngest of the three women, uses the impetuous, spontaneous language of youth, late adolescence. Lori's mother, Maria uses the protracted language of a romantic, a learned researcher, and most significantly a translator who chooses words with intention in an attempt to bridge cultures, experiences and, in this case, generations. The grandmother Gesuina, a former stage actress, has a voice that is brutally honest, provocative, escapist. All three voices reflect the essence of the characters: Lori, the reckless teenager who flies off on her moped, her life's speed represented by her diary without punctuation; Maria, the pensive translator whose detailed observations are so concentrated on the word that she does not see the circumstances that are unfolding around her; Gesuina, the erstwhile stage actress, who muses aloud and audio-records hoping for an audience to receive her recitation.    

Maraini uses language and stylistics, rather than description, to define her three women protagonists. Lori, the youngest of the three women, uses the impetuous, spontaneous language of youth, late adolescence. Lori's mother, Maria uses the protracted language of a romantic, a learned researcher, and most significantly a translator who chooses words with intention in an attempt to bridge cultures, experiences and, in this case, generations. The grandmother Gesuina, a former stage actress, has a voice that is brutally honest, provocative, escapist. All three voices reflect the essence of the characters: Lori, the reckless teenager who flies off on her moped, her life's speed represented by her diary without punctuation; Maria, the pensive translator whose detailed observations are so concentrated on the word that she does not see the circumstances that are unfolding around her; Gesuina, the erstwhile stage actress, who muses aloud and audio-records hoping for an audience to receive her recitation.