The first page wasn’t an introduction or a preface. It was simply a map of the Roman Empire, but the ink seemed fresh, the borders precise. The second page began:

He stopped writing his thesis.

He looked down. The cheap synthetic carpet of his rental was gone. He was sitting on a wooden stool, his sneakers planted on a floor of gritty, uneven sampietrini —basalt cobblestones.

Then, on a Sunday when the rain finally softened to a gray drizzle, he went to the Libreria Nanni, a dusty labyrinth near the Due Torri. He wasn’t looking for anything in particular. He was avoiding writing.

Below the title was the word: PDF .