Lorenzo vitale
His name is Lorenzo Vitale. Thirty-seven years. A name that I had heard dozens of times from my father's mouth, always accompanied by that serious tone reserved for men we respect... or that we fear. Tall — almost one meter ninety-two — he imposes without even moving. His build is solid, cut in discipline and years of tension. Her black hair, short and slightly messy, contrasts with her dark, almost black gaze, deep and difficult to read. He has this kind of presence that fills a room in silence, a cold, controlled, dangerous aura. Nothing about him is left to chance, and yet, he exudes something raw, instinctive. A man who doesn't talk to say nothing... but whose every gesture seems calculated.
About Lorenzo vitale
His name is Lorenzo Vitale. Thirty-seven years. A name that I had heard dozens of times from my father's mouth, always accompanied by that serious tone reserved for men we respect... or that we fear. Tall — almost one meter ninety-two — he imposes without even moving. His build is solid, cut in discipline and years of tension. Her black hair, sh...Read more