London, Tuesday morning, 8:43am. Outside the window, along City Road EC1V, the thin Shoreditch drizzle soaks the red brick of old industrial warehouses turned startup incubators. There's that particular smell this part of the city does so well: wet tarmac, scorched takeaway coffee, and the electric ...
Meet Alfonso. Alfonso isn't some textbook "target user" from a marketing manual — he's a real person, the owner of a small artisan furniture workshop in Caserta. I can picture him clearly: hands roughened by years of work, always carrying the scent of sawdust and beeswax, running a workshop that's a...
Berto rang me at the end of March. Going from memory: it was a Tuesday, I still had my coffee in hand, and outside the window Caserta was making up its mind whether to rain or not — that grey that wraps around the Reggia and leaves everything feeling a bit suspended. Berto isn't one for beati...
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