For years, I wanted to visit La Cupola, not simply to see a building, but to understand a place that seemed to exist somewhere between architecture, cinema, and memory. Ever since I first discovered Dante Bini's extraordinary dome, it had occupied a permanent place in my architectural imagination.

I arrived in Portlligat slowly, following the winding coastal road as the landscape opened up to the sea. The day was subdued, the light filtered through a thin layer of clouds that softened the outlines of everything it touched. Colours felt restrained. Small white houses appeared between rocks and greenery, and the whole place seemed unusually still. It was hard to imagine that this quiet setting had once been home to one of the most eccentric artists of the 20th century.

When I went to Venice, I had one clear goal: to see the architecture of Carlo Scarpa. His precision, his feeling for materials, the way he connects the old and the new, it always fascinated me. And his projects in Venice did not disappoint. They are sharp, balanced, and full of beautiful details. But what I didn’t expect was that another place would completely change my focus.