Read the first chapters and pre-order your copy for $2.99 instead of $6.99.

Out December 1st.

Available for pre-order:

The Boy Who Repainted His Ferrari.

π‘‡π‘Ÿπ‘Žπ‘›π‘ π‘™π‘Žπ‘‘π‘’π‘‘ 𝑏𝑦 π‘ͺπ’‚π’“π’π’π’Šπ’π’† π‘Ίπ’˜π’Šπ’π’•π’π’ π‘Žπ‘›π‘‘ 𝑫𝑬𝑫𝑨𝑳𝑢 𝒔.𝒓.𝒍.𝒔.

"What happens when you realize that the decisions you made years ago have shaped your life? This book is an invitation to consider the power of thought and the decisions we make throughout our lives. It is an introspective journey that will encourage you to reconsider your past in order to live with greater awareness."

Every thought is a brushstroke on your soul: whatever you imagine takes shape, gains color, and comes to life. Discover how the mind can repaint its own reality, revealing the fine line between idea and manifestation, between the visible and the invisible. A story that turns introspection into conscious action, inspiring you to embrace change.

Upcoming pre-orders available — those books are currently available in Italian only.

Translation by Caroline Swinton and the publishing agency Dedalo S.r.l.s.

Two nights in the French Riviera

"It's as if they wanted to float between blue and azure, between water and air, between unconscious and conscious, my damned thoughts..."

Champagne!

Amsterdam Love Storytellers

"Behind the red curtain. Amsterdam like you've never seen it before, caught between attraction, risk, and identity."

The Freedom Offered to Natasha Duvnjak

"To Natasha, and to the long, torrid summer of 2012. To her beauty in the springtime of her life. And to her mind, which would one day damn her."

Author

Some people prefer movies, others prefer books. Which is better? I sometimes wonder.

Well... books, without a doubt. As long as our thoughts can still change the reality around us, well, books will always be better. They invade our thoughts with force — they give us new ones, and they tell of worlds that the eye, ohh, cannot see.

I am an Italian writer. I was adopted by the Italian language, since I spent my childhood — up until the age of eight — in Romania, where I was born, before my parents moved to Italy for work. But I don't consider myself either Italian or Romanian. Funny, isn't it? Wait, there's more! Then there's my surname: Rostotchi! No, that's not a Romanian surname at all. So where do I come from? I ask myself that too, sometimes... Yes, my great-grandparents emigrated to Romania because of the Cold War, but from where? Poland? Ukraine? Russia? I don't know...

So, I don't know where I come from, but I know where I want to go, and only you can help me get there by reading my stories! Thank you for being here, and happy reading.