As a kid in Argentina, playing with toy war planes was not such a big deal, contrary to what the thousands of immigrants felt that arrived to my country escaping from the pain and the absurd. That is the story of my grandparents and my mother. Italians, who did not speak about the subject because they dealt with it in silence, as a taboo. In January 2001 I took back this theme of my childhood, building planes of the Second World War and then taking pictures of them. The story is a repeated, unaware drama, and, over it, irony, unsacredness and playful pleasure.