Italy

Italy has always felt less like a destination and more like an echo of home. My roots twist deep into its soil—my father from Milan, my grandparents nestled by the shimmering calm of Lake Como, and a sister whose laughter fills a sunlit apartment in Parma. With family scattered from the ruins of Rome to the shores of Sicily, every trip feels like tracing the outline of a living map—one drawn in memory and emotion as much as geography.

Through my lens, I’ve tried to bottle that essence: the warm chaos of morning markets, the way light skims over crumbling frescoes, or how a cobblestone alley can suddenly open into a piazza that steals your breath. Italy doesn’t pose for you—it simply is, effortlessly beautiful and heartbreakingly human.

Its culture, its art, its maddening charm—all of it keeps tugging me back, year after year. I suppose that’s why I can never really leave; I just pause until the next visit. Each photograph I take is a small love letter, written in light, to the country that feels like both muse and motherland.

So come wander with me—through espresso-scented mornings, through the hum of vespas and the hush of cathedrals—and see Italy not just as a postcard, but as a living, breathing story.