Luca Romano writes about power, memory, and the fragile line between ceremony and violence. Raised among the archives and piazzas of Italy's twentieth century, he traces how ideas turn into institutions-and how institutions learn to look away. His work moves between the committee rooms of Geneva and the mountain passes of East Africa, attentive to the lives on both sides of the rifle. He believes history is a grammar of responsibility: if we learn its syntax, we need not repeat its sentences. When not following paper trails, he walks old rail lines and reads newspapers a century late, listening for the tones that once made the unacceptable sound reasonable.