Massimo looks at her, takes his right hand and grips the handle of the case.
His mother: "OK, tell you what, these are the stones that you and Marco play with everyday, yeah?"
Massimo: "Yeah"
His mother: "Well, how about you leave half of them to Marco and you keep the other half, what do you think? I know these are the ones you picked, but especially because of that he'll be even happier if you give him half, hunh?"
Massimo thinks about it: "........ OK"
His mother: "Good boy, now, you take them out, split them in half, half for you and half for Marco, and I'll get you a case for your ones", she gets up, "and in the meantime you can put the shirts back in the case"
Massimo: "No, I want the stones to be in the case, you get me the case for the shirts"
His mother: "Come on, stones in the case? They'll wrinkle all your clothes"
Massimo: "You promised.."
His mother: "Fine, fine... ", she huffs, "you're impossible sometimes, you know that?", as she starts to walk out of the room Massimo stops her, and gives her a kiss.

Six years later. Massimo, seventeen years of age now, is with his father, sitting by a table at their work, a tailor's shop. The business isn't going too well, his father has his head between the palms of his hands, coming up every now and then for a breath of air.
Massimo is just about to put his hand on his father's shoulder but he stops himself.
Massimo: "There must be a way out"
His father: "Yeah, there must be... but where is it?"
Massimo: "... what about uncle Salvatore?"
His father: "Silvio? America?.... you want to move again?"
Massimo: "... I don't know... I don't mind, I don't have too much keeping me here.... I don't know, everybody says in America it is very easy....we can start again, no?"