My lore was born from a desire to build a bridge between cultures.
I have always been fascinated by myths and legends, and through my travels I realized something profound: what unites us is far greater, and far older, than what divides us.
The traditions that make each people unique can become the foundation of a home for all, rather than a wall that keeps us apart.

From this conviction, my Babel was born: Opera.
A city that represents a dream: the Paris of the Belle Époque merged with the Alexandria of Egypt, crowned with the mythic splendor of Babylon, the cultural gravity of a Torii gate, and the animist spirit of Africa, South America, and North America.

Guiding this world stand the fathers of “power to the people”: Cleisthenes, Pericles, and the philosophy that teaches that the best among us must serve the many,
the red thread that binds all great leaders, from Aeneas to King Arthur.

The bricks with which this marvel is built are ideas.
And the natural habitat where ideas are born, cultivated, and bloom,
is paper.

For years, wherever I went, I carried with me the three tools needed to turn imagination into reality:
a notebook, a pencil, and an eraser.
Sometimes a pen, sometimes a brush pen, whatever I needed to give shape to words and thoughts.

First came the philosophy.
Then, the civilizations.
Then the symbols of those civilizations.
And finally, like a river in flood, ink and graphite began to stain the page,
and the world took form.

The masks hanging on the walls became the faces of peoples,
and the echoes of long-forgotten philosophy lessons crystallized their traditions.

That world grew,
it divided into Acts,
it built a structure ready to be told,
but it was closed,
irretrievably confined within those pages.

Until this happened:

And then this:

There is nothing more human than telling stories.
And thanks to AI, and countless sleepless nights,
I can finally give life to the long tale I have dreamed.

And if, from time to time, you seek refuge in this world with me
to listen to another story
then invite whomever you wish.
There is always space around the fire.

Lorenzo Della Giovanna

“Corillio”