The house on the corner of Via Angioy and Via Sebastiano Satta is the author's biographical and fictional fulcrum. Now owned by the diocese, it houses a residential community: a purpose consistent with the charitable legacy left to the Satta-Galfré family. In the novel, the building becomes the setting for a domestic sociology: the notary's upper-floor study, the ground-floor living room, the constant ascents and descents of stairs too solemn for a provincial home. Ahead, the dark palace of engineer Mannu: Satta makes it the reverse shot of his own home, describing a "capital" project descended upon a village that had "made itself" over the centuries. Don't miss the rear courtyards: Satta evokes them as a "series of courtyards" that end in a small vegetable garden, with an oleander hated by Donna Vincenza—minimal details that become domestic symbols (poison, obstinacy, time). The street door ("portoncino") is contrasted by the large portal facing the countryside, a metaphor for the two faces of the house and its inhabitants: one public, controlled; the other open to the wind and the crops. Passing by today, one understands how Satta's architecture is above all an architecture of memory.