Sofia

I’m Venetian, and perhaps because I grew up in such a fragile, crowded city, I’ve developed a quiet obsession with silence, late-afternoon slanting light, and intimate spaces. With a background in photography and interior architecture, when I look for a place for two, I pay attention to honest materials—the whitewashed stone of an Apulian masseria, raw linen, a walled courtyard where you can have dinner away from street noise—and I steer clear of hotels peddling “romantic packages” or charging a lake-view supplement for a sliver of water between two roofs.