Dear Asma,

As I write, a dog is barking at the table behind. It’s funny how a creature as small as a miniature poodle can make a noise this big. You can’t hear the sound of people’s conversations around you anymore, as the barking cuts through everything. It’s as sharp as a sudden thunderstorm.

Speaking of thunderstorms, someone entered my life yesterday in Rome, just like one. You know those significant encounters the universe sends simply to remind you that you are still alive and the world is spinning? The strong ones, with a thousand challenges (flight schedules, train connections, wrong timing that we always love to blame), stand between two people’s intentions. “I feel like I’ve known you forever. I missed you. I want to hug you long,” they said, with thunderstorms in their eyes and a smile big enough to melt an empire. Mine melted inwardly, though I kept a perfectly polished façade. Two people stood in the middle of the room, hugged as if their entire existence depended on each other. As if their spines simultaneously held their bodies with magnetic connectors. It felt like a performance of characters that are just playing their true selves, here and now. We left Rome quickly, like lightning. The echo of us remained in the Roman passages and WhatsApp texts.

Later that night, on New Year’s Eve, I danced the year away between W’s bar, lobby, and the rooftop. Everything felt retro cinematic. I was in an era I hadn’t lived before. Rome’s fireworks were quieter than Dubai’s grand spectacles, but they carried a tender truth: that even the smallest spark can try its hardest to be seen. Although I always compared fireworks to Shakespeare’s Much Ado about Nothing. I’m just never impressed by pyrotechnics. They clash with a pacifist in me.

• “Do you have something red on you?” charming Julie asked — a speech therapist I met on the night.
• “Not really. It didn’t work the previous years, so I gave up on the ritual,” I said.
• “Well, a French woman is about to change that,” she replied, handing me a red lighter with a smile. How could I say no? We hugged. I’m a hugger. It’s obvious by now.

As I moved to the rhythm of All I Need Is Your Love Tonight, the DJ’s soundtrack to the midnight-lit sky, a message lit my phone:

• “Happy New Year! Thinking of you.”
• “New Year just arrived in Rome. You are my first message of 2026,” I replied.
• “Is 2026 our year?”
• “It must be. Nothing else is acceptable.”
  Suddenly, hundreds of birds flew across the Roman sky. I forgot about the fireworks. I had a sincere smile. Provoked by a simple, meaningful text. They thought of me, and they made the effort to make me aware of it. It felt eclectic, and that’s the word I always connected to their behaviour. Meaningful and eclectic.

I always travel for the New Year, as I like beginning the year somewhere other than where I reside. A quiet promise I made to myself long ago. And as silly as it sounds, I have a ritual every 1st of January: organise a beautiful lunch and dinner for myself, in some of the city’s most charming spots. Rocco Forte’s Hotel de la Ville shone through Ginori’s restaurant. Their tableware, designed by the iconic Ginori and titled “Italian Orient”, brought together two worlds that might otherwise clash, yet here, they coexisted in perfect harmony. Colourful Orient met Italian glamour. The dishes danced on the plates, aligned with floral motifs. Everything felt intentional. I thought to myself: May alignment and intention set the tone for the year ahead.

Numerology says 2026 reduces to the number 1, which signifies a new beginning. In the Chinese belief, last year was the year of the Snake, shedding its skin. This one is the year of the Horse, galloping forward. A good base. Full speed in a fresh direction. A new chance to make things right. I murmured to myself: We think we have time… but we are so comically short of it in this beautiful world, my dear Asma.

I continued my Rocco Forte obsession with the winter garden at Hotel de Russie. I was here a little over a year ago, in a different season, with different feelings. I wasn’t sure I wanted to revisit the memories made here, because at their time they felt right. I couldn’t tell how they would come out now, yet somehow, everything felt just fine. The snake shed its skin, and the horse began to gallop. I felt free and vulnerable at the same time. And it felt authentic, which was the difference from years ago. It felt real, as it was my own ground, and not a common one.

I often think about vulnerability, Asma. After sending you my Seychellois Diaries, I told you I felt like I revealed more than I ever intended. Yet that vulnerability gave my voice authenticity that is freeing and liberating. It is softening my past, and calming the future. She (the future) is gorgeous, generous, warm. Each letter I write to you now is essentially my future unfolding. I never thought of it that way before. My friends constantly remind me to live in the moment, but I always found time irrelevant. What brought me here is about to take me somewhere else, and I can’t help but think of that beautiful future, right here and right now. How would I dream if I only lived in the moment? Times are getting better for the dreamers!

Living in the moment brought me to one of our favourite retail brands. Again — impulsively, as always when travelling (or whenever I visit a mall in Dubai). The gentleman assisting me was unusually warm, for my up-to-date brand experience. Forgive me for saying this, knowing you’re this brand’s devotee too, but he was surprisingly friendly. He made me feel a sense of belonging, which, after all, is why we fall in love with any brand: because it translates aspiration into human experience. I finally got the bag I’ve wanted for years, and it didn’t feel like playing a game. It just felt like a transaction I wanted to happen, in a place meant for that. As simple as that. My credit card cried. My brother laughed.
“I can’t believe you actually did that,” he said.
“I love you. Don’t tell mom,” I replied. I grew up in a world where things like bags were inherited, not bought. Most probably, that’s why I have a dozen now. Satisfying cravings and fulfilling wants, twenty-five years later.

On the night of the 1st, I dined at Baccano, recommended by my dear friend Viviana from Capri (you might remember her from my Anacapri letter). I can’t quite tell what was better: the food, the drinks, the service, or the atmosphere. When you go, please leave a space for the dessert and try their signature tiramisu. Everything aligned. Everything felt right. A good beginning to the year: aligned and right.

• “Please wait, you can’t leave without a gift!”, gorgeous Raffaella, Guest Experience Manager, is almost whispering as she is running out of the breath due to her quick steps. “I hope to see you soon again in W Rome! You are a part of the family now”, she says with a warm smile, while handing us the gifts with handwritten notes.
• “Buon anno, Raffaella!”
• “A lei, Milo!”

As the taxi took my friend Ivan and me to the airport, Olivia Dean sang:
“’Cause I make it so easy to fall in love.
So come give me a call, and we’ll fall into us.
I’m the perfect mix of Saturday night and the rest of your life,
Anyone with a heart would agree
It’s so easy to fall in love with me.”

I’ll always be coming back to Rome, dear Asma, as it will always feel different and right.

Enthusiastically yours,
Milo