Caffè Italia Il Numero Due, page 68
“I don’t think I’ve ever held a book this beautiful before,” my father said the first time I showed him Caffe Italia. He had fallen in love with Italy three summers back after travelling to Liguria, and returned to Sweden revived, practicing the romance language religiously on his duolingo app.
That December night, he sat reading Il Numero Uno, the first volume of the independent art book series, voraciously by the lamplight, lingering on the sumptuous photography, at times fingering the smooth pages as though savoring the sensation: a tactile and emotional experience. “This is exactly it,” he said, palming the soft cover of the book when he finished, as though he had just understood some age-old secret… read more