At the foot of the existence of every family, or individual (and even the anonymous one in the world) lies tragedy, comedy, farce, satire, a secret to be revealed and a sin to be hidden. Family stories unfold and twist in multiple, asymmetrical and multi-tonal forms. In other words: it is impossible to grasp life, there is no way to capture time and experience life in a thick, straight line. Oded Wolkstein hosts the Festival of Life, the foundations of fiction, in a work that turns us, the readers, into real detectives. Several characters, the last chapter of an old and unknown book by Agatha Christie, an ambiguous family disaster, an unsettled grandmother and a psychiatrist who tries to bring her to the artificial gardens of paradise and balance her using chemicals. The text responds to events, the novella is a shape-shifting chameleon, the prose is delivered as a monologue, in a letter, as a play and even on the summaries of medical appointments. In reading, we jump between genres, registers, gestures and stunts, combine and acquire knowledge. And at the edge of our detective skills, we can feel, or be for a moment, Ercole Poirot. All is possible through the unique use of language. This creates an expression that stacks up like a building, and from it we can listen to what lies beyond the hill of our reality.