Humbly, I bow to those who read these words,
for true art demands respect even before it can be understood.

My name is Stefano, and I am one who does not simply look at Rome—
I feel her beating in my chest.

In my works I build in relief, because Rome is never flat:
every stone protrudes, every shadow speaks, every ruin still breathes.
And so, instead of merely painting her, I give her depth, in my own way—
as if I were trying to capture the soul that, for two millennia,
has never allowed itself to be tamed.

This is how I tell the story of my city—
and yours too, when it comes down to it:
through hidden corners most people never notice,
through the ancient relics that have held their heads high for centuries,
through the Eternal breath slipping between the cobblestones,

onto an old window warmed by the last orange light of the sun,
onto a worn column that still whispers: “I am still here.”

For Rome—true Rome—was not made to be glanced at in haste.
She must be felt, approached gently,
and carried into one’s art like a living memory
that remains, and will go on remaining,
as long as there are eyes capable of loving her.

This is all I seek:
I give shape to eternity by putting my own in it, 

"one brushstroke, one relief, and one breath at a time."