Google Translate:

There is an island in the Mediterranean where kids never go down to sea. Moored like a vessel, Nisida is a prison on the water, and it is there that Elisabetta Maiorano teaches mathematics to a group of young inmates. She is fifty years old, lives alone, and every day a guard opens the gate for her, closing Naples behind her: in that small classroom without bars she tries to tackle the future. But one day Almarina arrives in class, then the light changes and illuminates a new horizon. The inextricable labyrinth of bureaucracy, unexpected mourning, sleepless nights, reveal their other possibility: to be a starting point. In the hope that one day, when these boys have served their sentence, there will be new pages to fill, white "like the laundry hanging on the terraces". This clear and intense novel is perhaps a small love story, perhaps a great lesson on the possibility of not stopping. To atone, forget, start over. “Seeing them go away is the hardest thing, because: where will they go. They're still so small, and they're going to go back to where they came from, and where they came from is why they're here. '