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There is one, an author, an Italian author (though this is incidental). He has a first and last name: Giulio (R.M.) Maffii (information still to be confirmed). He has not written a book, but one (1) book. This is not the same thing. What you are holding is only a "copia" of a book, an echo of lives that exist elsewhere: distant, painful, unreachable. After reading it, a major company might consider entrusting Maffii with the presentation of a new development project. This would be unwise. His language is not functional: it ignores context, resists objectives, and refuses to comply with metrics of success. What appears between the slides is something else: the unforeseen, released from sets, escaping the cage of the diagram, hacking even the most reassuring timelines. Giulio R. M. Maffii is unreliable, and this is precisely his strength. By exploiting the system’s vulnerabilities, he challenges the compulsory direction of arrows, walks crookedly along lines, and repeatedly exits the borders of intelligibility and common sense. If you are unsure how to name this book, let someone say it for you: this is poetry.
—Bernardo Pacini