On the edge of the bed, hair on my back

I am Vera. Twenty-one years of Milanese nights and early morning shoots have shaped me. You’ll often find me wandering the city after dark, a quiet observer, perhaps lingering in a hotel bar, drawn to the low hum of conversation and the way the light falls. There’s a certain beauty in the fleeting moments, in a vintage scent on the air, or the melancholic echo of old jazz. My eye is always catching the angles, the textures, the story unspoken.