Chapter 181

• The city looked different when you entered it slowly. I had been to Milan before, but always in the blur of shows and deadlines, always rushing from one venue to another, barely noticing the streets between. This time I stepped out of the car at my own pace, carrying nothing more than a small suitcase and the sketchbook I had brought from Kyoto.
• The air was warm but not heavy, the late afternoon light casting soft gold against the pale stone of the buildings. Julian walked beside me, our driver already taking our luggage to the small boutique hotel I had chosen instead of one of the larger ones the organizers had suggested. I wanted space that felt personal, not a lobby full of names and cameras.
• Inside the hotel, the reception was quiet. The woman at the desk welcomed us with a gentle smile and handed over a single key. The room upstairs was simple — white walls, wooden floors, a single vase of fresh flowers on the desk. I set my sketchbook there before looking out the window. From here, I could see part of the street that led toward the central piazza. People moved at their own pace, some lingering at cafés, others carrying shopping bags, all of it slower than I remembered.