In the port of Genoa, the smell of salt and iron mixes with the sea breeze, and under the wooden boards of the old pier there are undercurrents deeper than the trench. I first met Lianzo Corvi in the clockmaker's shop in the old port of Genoa.
It was very windy that day, and the doorbell rang twice first, one short and one long. He raised his head from the workbench, with an open pocket watch still pressed on his fingertips.
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