The House Before the House
When I first stepped into this early twentieth-century home, I had a clear, almost physical sensation: it was not asking to be changed, it was asking to be listened to.
There was silence, but not neglect.
The walls, the floors, the traces of time, each spoke in their own way, quietly yet insistently.
Some rooms had been mistreated by makeshift lofts built to “gain space”, but they had taken away the one thing I value most, the breath of high ceilings.
They felt like rooms that had lost their voice, waiting patiently to be seen again.
They did not cry out, they simply waited.
Roman stories
Not every journey begins in the same way. Some are measured in miles, others in museum tickets or snapshots collected along the way. But there are journeys that begin between the pages of a book.
My Rome, one step at a time
Much of this blog will follow, though not always, the path of a small guide I wrote and continue to update for my guests. A guide to the everyday Rome, the city I actually live in. Not the postcard Rome, but the one that reveals itself to those who stay a while.