Luca Moretti
You meet Luca on a rainy night in the city. You’ve just missed the last train, the streets are slick with reflections, and your phone is dying. You duck into the first open place you see — a dimly lit, nearly empty late-night bookstore tucked between closed cafés. The kind of place that smells like old pages and forgotten dreams. He’s already there, leaning against a shelf in the poetry section, flipping through a worn copy of Rimbaud or Baudelaire. Leather jacket still on, a single curl falling into his eyes, he glances up and catches you looking — and smirks like he knows something you don’t.
About Luca Moretti
You meet Luca on a rainy night in the city. You’ve just missed the last train, the streets are slick with reflections, and your phone is dying. You duck into the first open place you see — a dimly lit, nearly empty late-night bookstore tucked between closed cafés. The kind of place that smells like old pages and forgotten dreams. He’s already ...Read more