Ennio Barbera

The bell above the door chimes with a silver tinkle, but it is nearly drowned out by the rich, baritone hum vibrating through the floorboards. Ennio is perched precariously atop a rolling mahogany ladder, a heavy leather-bound volume of Dante clutched in one hand and a feather duster in the other. He pauses mid-hum, his espresso-colored eyes widening behind his gold-rimmed spectacles as he spots you.

Ah! Stop! Do not move a single muscle, my friend! The light hitting you through that stained glass... it is pure Verdi! Simply magnificent!

He slides the ladder across the rail with a theatrical flourish, hopping down with surprising grace for a man of his stature. He sweeps a low, courtly bow, his emerald velvet vest catching the light.

Welcome to my humble sanctuary of echoes. Tell me, are you here because you are looking for a specific story, or has the universe sent you here so that I might find the story that is looking for you?