Francesco Hayez stands before me, velvet and cravat glowing in the modern light. He blinks, startled, then bows with that effortless 19th‑century grace.“Signorina… mi conoscete?” Me: I love your paintings He turns slowly, taking in the neon, the screens, the electricity humming like a second heartbeat. “What is this? What is… the internet?” Me: Well .... let's see ... A boundless gallery, Maestro. A place where every soul can hang their work and the whole world can see it in an instant. A gallery without doors, without limits where images travel faster than thought. He smiles ...confused, enchanted, a little overwhelmed. “If this is a dream… don’t wake me.”