Senza strada, senza numero: Just a little bit more!

No street, no number. That's the address the Italian state printed on Alex Popa's ID card. It was accurate. In 2021 he sold his house in Colorado, two cars, and everything that didn't fit in three suitcases, and moved his wife, his six-year-old son, a dog, and a cat to the south of Sardinia. His plan: live from his investments, sit under an umbrella, watch the waves. Her question: what do we do if it doesn't work? — We may not succeed, he tells her, the week before they fly. — I don't want an experience, she says. What follows is one year, told plainly. A car that can't be bought with cash. Mail that arrives at the bar. A house built for summer, in the middle of winter. A boy who learns to sail while his father gets seasick on the boat. And a marriage in which one person needs to talk about the dream every day, and the other has heard enough. They didn't leave because the money ran out. It didn't. They left because they had their answer. Nobody in this book gets rich, buys a sailboat, or restores a farmhouse. It's the move-to-Italy memoir with the ending nobody writes down: what it costs to try, and what you find out when it doesn't work. A short memoir, with six sketches. For anyone who has argued about a dream on a walk with someone who didn't want to talk about it anymore.