In 2010, at a dimly lit jazz club in Trastevere, Anna Kanakis sat at a corner table with a worn leather notebook. She wasn't there for the music; she was there for the silence between the notes.
The struggle between wanting to hold onto someone and letting them be free in their dreams.
💡 Real connection isn't found in the words we say, but in the safety we provide when words aren't possible. If you’d like, I can: Write a detailed scene from the book's perspective
Midnight Rome, where the past and present blur into a single heartbeat.
Drainage Northamptonshire