Mad love, literally. Passion in the Greek sense of the word.

A madness induced by the torture of never being able to love enough the being we long for, who drives us, even within an established relationship. This whole sentimental storm comes crashing down around Margherita, swirling around her more and more uncontrollably, like a destructive tornado.

Yet she remains grounded, impassive, insensitive perhaps to the turmoil she has caused, rising upright with a quiet force; the only weapon no doubt in the face of the storm, over which she alone has power, like a divinity of nature - a description worthy of the prose used by Cocciante to convey the devotion he has for her, and reminiscent of references such as Botticelli's Primavera.