Early Life & Roots
June 6th, 1997, 8 AM sharp in Ravenna, Italy. You'd think being born that early would make me a morning person, but no - mornings and I have never been friends.
I actually grew up bouncing between two cities. My dad trained a professional volleyball team, so we lived in Macerata during the sports season, then packed everything up and moved back to our summer house in Ravenna when it ended. This went on until I was eight, when my parents finally decided to just stay put in Ravenna.
That move messed with me more than I expected. I had to leave behind my school, my first real friendships, everything familiar. Walking into a new place where everyone already knew each other while being naturally quiet and observant? Not exactly a recipe for instant social success. I retreated into my own world pretty hard after that.
But here's the thing - I filled that world with stories and adventures. I must have read thousands of Mickey Mouse comics. Not because I idolized the characters or anything, but because those pages showed me worlds way bigger than my small-town reality. The humor, the treasure hunts, the wild situations they got into - it all fed something in me that craved adventure, even if mine was happening on paper.
I spent hours creating elaborate scenarios with toy soldiers and action figures, building entire universes in my head. Looking back, this solitary streak meant I was often a step behind socially, but intellectually I was racing ahead. Chess tournaments, fantasy novels, card games - these became my real playgrounds.
Not having mentors or "heroes" growing up actually shaped me in a weird way. It forced me to be self-reliant from early on. If I wanted answers, I had to dig them up myself. If something didn't make sense, I kept poking at it until it did. That mix of curiosity and stubbornness has stuck with me ever since.
Teenage Years & Finding My Tribe
By my teens, I'd gotten comfortable being in my own world. While other kids chased footballs after school, I was setting up chessboards or preparing for trading card tournaments. From 13 to 19, video games and card games weren't just hobbies - they were my universe. That competitive scene is where I finally found people who thought like me. Some of those friendships are still solid today.
The tournament circuit taught me things school never did. It wasn't about playing for fun - it was strategy, rankings, pushing myself to see what I could really achieve. Winning mattered, not for the tiny prizes, but because it proved I could figure things out my own way.
This same rebellious streak followed me into the classroom. I wasn't the type to accept an answer just because a teacher said so. If something felt off, I'd question it until it made sense to me.
High school chemistry was supposed to turn me into some kind of mad scientist mixing potions. Instead, it was mostly abstract formulas and endless equations. Boring as hell, but I stuck it out. Even when I hated the subject, I learned to grind through it - a lesson in persistence that would come in handy later.
The real wake-up call came with my graduation internship in Wales. Working in a chemical lab sounded cool in theory. In practice? Grey weather, living with people who couldn't stand me, biking through rain every day to a job where I spent time raising insects just to kill them with pesticides. It was miserable, but it toughened me up. I learned how to adapt and push forward even when everything around me felt hostile.
When I got back to Italy, I hit a crossroads. Gaming had become such a huge part of my life that I was seriously considering going pro. But esports were still a joke to most people - especially my parents, who came from traditional sports and saw gaming as a complete waste of time. Giving up that dream was brutal. For a while, I had no idea what direction to take.
I ended up taking a gap year, working hotel reception in Rimini for my uncle's business partner. The job itself was nothing special, but I lived with my grandmother during that time. Those memories became some of the most precious I carry. It was also my first real taste of the working world: long hours, small pay, doing something just to get by.
Those years were a mess of frustration, discovery, and just trying to survive. They forced me to grow up fast, but they also quietly set up everything that came next.
University & The Sneaker Game
After two summers at that hotel, I finally decided to get moving. I enrolled in Economics and Finance at the University of Bologna - not because I had some grand vision of becoming an economist, but because I had no clue what I wanted to do and it seemed like the most "money-oriented" subject I could find. Economics felt safe, broad enough to open doors even if I didn't know which ones yet.
Turns out it was another turning point in disguise. My days looked normal on the surface - lectures, exams, late-night cramming. But something way more exciting was happening behind the scenes.
My roommate Matteo introduced me to sneaker reselling. At the time, it felt like this secret underground economy. Limited releases, camping outside stores, pairs that sold out in minutes and could be flipped for serious money. My first flip was a pair of Off-White Air Prestos - bought them with the only €200 I had and flipped them for €600.
That moment changed everything. I'd just made more profit on one pair of shoes than my parents earned in a month.
Matteo and I started camping outside stores, waiting hours in the cold just for the chance to buy pairs we could resell. Sometimes we hit big, sometimes we struck out, but it didn't matter. We were learning the game, building a network, forming this little community of resellers in our city.
Student life became split in two: days grinding through finance lectures (behavioral economics was the only subject that actually fascinated me - it explained how people really make decisions), nights chasing drops and constantly scheming how to scale this hustle.
Unlike chemistry, which had drained me with endless theory, finance at least connected to the real world. But honestly, my energy was already somewhere else. I wasn't chasing perfect grades anymore. I was figuring out how to buy, sell, and make money doing something that actually excited me.
University gave me way more than a degree. It gave me three years of social growth, lifelong friendships, and the seed of what would become my first real business. It wasn't any classroom or professor that shaped me most - it was those streets outside sneaker stores, the thrill of sold-out drops, and realizing I could actually create something of my own.
Graduation, Covid & The Birth of Sneakers Daddy
Graduation was supposed to feel like an achievement. Instead, I sat at home in Ravenna, staring at my laptop, graduating via Zoom. No ceremony, no party, no celebration. Just another video call in the weird haze of Covid.
Honestly, I didn't feel like I'd accomplished much by finishing my degree. University was never about academic validation for me. It felt more like this socially imposed checkpoint - something you were expected to do, not something I actually valued. I'd always taken more pride in the stuff I built for myself.
I got an internship in my grandmother's town, working as a financial advisor for a consulting firm. On paper, it looked perfect: a "real" career, professional suits, learning from senior partners. I did learn a lot about personal finance, investments, how wealthy clients operated. But even there, I couldn't suppress my entrepreneurial itch. I'd rope in the secretaries to help me print labels and ship sneaker packages on the side.
By the end, the partners offered me a chance to stay and build a long-term career there. For most people, that would've been the dream. For me, it was a wake-up call. The thought of spending my life in a 9-to-5, smiling politely in a suit, advising wealthy people while never becoming one myself - it just didn't sit right. I didn't want to serve wealth. I wanted to build my own.
So I turned them down.
That pushed me back to what had been driving me since Bologna: sneakers. With the client base I'd built through my university hustle, I realized I could scale this side gig into a proper business. That's when Sneakers Daddy was born.
The first year wasn't glamorous, but it proved the concept worked. My customer-first approach - always prioritizing satisfaction and building trust - helped the business grow steadily. I wasn't some polished entrepreneur yet, but I had momentum. Enough to believe it was worth going full-time.
My personal life was evolving too. Living with my parents after three years of independence at university felt suffocating. I wanted my own space, my own life, complete ownership of my path. After months of research, I found my answer: Malta. Mediterranean lifestyle, 300 days of sun, beautiful coastline, and a business-friendly environment.
Moving there felt like stepping into the next chapter of everything.
Malta Years: Scaling Up & Self-Discovery
Malta wasn't just a business move - it was a complete life reset. After researching options for months, the island hit all my boxes: Mediterranean lifestyle, endless sun, and an environment where I could actually grow a company. Close enough to Italy to feel familiar, far enough to push me into unknown territory.
I had no idea how much those 2.5 years would change everything.
Business-wise, Malta is where Sneakers Daddy became real. What started as a hustle turned into a structured company. I expanded my supplier network into the U.S., building the largest vetted network I could manage, positioning myself as the bridge between American suppliers and European B2B clients.
But I also learned entrepreneurship's harsh realities. Managing company structures, navigating logistics across continents, dealing with losses that could sink you. At one point, I lost over $120,000 to fraudulent bankruptcies, unpaid invoices, supplier scams. Brutal lessons that taught me to see risk completely differently.
The challenges weren't all financial. I invested heavily in building Argus, a proprietary CRM with full automation, managing a team of developers for over nine months. It pushed me beyond just "reseller" into actual entrepreneur territory - building infrastructure, systems, real processes.
But Malta did more than grow my business. It grew me.
For the first time, I had real stability: my own place, a solid friend group, space to explore who I was outside of work. Between boat parties and deep conversations, I discovered I was an INFJ - the rarest Myers-Briggs type. Reading that description was like flipping on a light in a dark room. Suddenly my past made sense. My quirks, my need for independence, my constant search for meaning - it all clicked. It didn't give me new abilities, but it gave me clarity about the ones I already had.
I learned tough personal lessons too. Matteo eventually joined Sneakers Daddy as my right hand. For 1.5 years, he helped scale the business and carry the operational weight. But as we grew, our visions started clashing. I realized mixing friendship with business strains both. We eventually parted ways professionally, though the friendship survived - which mattered more.
Despite setbacks, Sneakers Daddy hit its peak during these years. I sold the most expensive pair of my career - €87,000 sneakers, hand-collected in Tokyo and delivered directly to a client in Spain. Surreal milestone, especially thinking back to flipping my first Off-White Prestos with just €200.
But even at the peak, I could see trouble coming. Nike started flooding the market with releases, killing the exclusivity that drove value. Demand softened, prices dropped. The writing was on the wall - this industry wouldn't last forever.
Malta gave me more than business success. It gave me courage to look beyond sneakers and imagine a future not defined by just one hustle. It planted seeds of reinvention that would eventually grow into King of Automation.
The AI Awakening & Founding King of Automation
By the time Sneakers Daddy was running smoothly, I could already feel the sneaker game losing steam. Nike's overproduction was killing the exclusivity, and while the company was still profitable, I knew I couldn't bet my entire future on a fading trend.
But life has this funny way of preparing you for your next chapter before you even realize it.
When I built Argus, the CRM for Sneakers Daddy, I didn't think of myself as a "tech guy." I just needed a system to manage suppliers, clients, and logistics across continents. But those nine months working with developers taught me more about software, automation, and project management than any class ever could. Without meaning to, I'd been training myself to solve business problems with systems.
Then AI exploded.
I'd been following AI casually, but GPT-4's release flipped everything. Suddenly this wasn't just experimental tech - it was practical, buildable, something that could completely redefine how businesses operated. I tested it on small problems in my own company and saw immediate results. That's when it clicked: if this worked for me, it could work for others too.
My personal life was shifting at the same time. The social circle I'd built in Malta was dissolving as people moved on. I was also in a relationship that pushed me to think deeper about what kind of future I wanted to build - not just for myself, but with someone else. After a deep brainstorming session with two close friends who came to visit, the idea crystallized.
I would start a company helping business owners adopt AI and automate their workflows. That night, King of Automation was born.
The timing felt poetic. Sneakers Daddy was still running but didn't need all my attention anymore. AI was surging mainstream, and I had this rare combination of business experience and willingness to dive deep into new technology. Most importantly, I'd already lived through multiple reinventions - chemistry, finance, sneakers - and knew how to start from zero without fear.
Those early days were intense. I juggled sneaker logistics while teaching myself automation from scratch. My only "mentor" was ChatGPT itself, learning by asking the right questions and iterating constantly. If anything, this made me believe in AI even more - if I could educate myself to professional level using nothing but curiosity and an AI model, the potential was limitless.
I took the leap into full digital nomad life with my partner at the time, combining travel with building the business. The relationship didn't last, but the lifestyle stuck. I realized I didn't need to put life on pause for work - both could run parallel. From South America to Southeast Asia, I lived adventures I'd once only dreamed about: swimming with sharks, surviving the Laotian jungle, climbing Mount Kinabalu in Borneo, exploring the world's largest cave in Vietnam.
All while growing a business that helped others buy back their own time.
King of Automation quickly connected me with entrepreneurs across industries and continents. Each client brought new perspectives, challenges, stories. For me, this wasn't just work - it was ongoing education. Every project was a chance to absorb different ways of thinking, understand the world better, sharpen my problem-solving skills.
King of Automation wasn't just a company. It was the natural culmination of everything I'd done before - childhood curiosity, resilience built in Wales, entrepreneurial grit from sneakers, love for systems from Argus. All woven together into one mission: helping people focus on what they love while AI and automation handled the rest.
Philosophy, Values & What's Next
If there's one thread running through every chapter of my life, it's freedom. Not the Instagram version, but the real kind - the ability to decide for myself, steer my own course, never feel trapped in a life I didn't choose. That's been my compass since day one, whether biking through Welsh rain, flipping sneakers from student dorms, or automating operations for companies worldwide.
I've always believed a man's reputation is all he has. My word matters. If I say I'll do something, I do it. That simple principle has carried me through businesses, friendships, partnerships. Reliability is underrated in a world full of noise.
My other north star is knowledge. A successful day is any day I learn something new. I don't get attached to rigid beliefs - I'm agnostic, politically unaffiliated, more interested in understanding systems than defending ideologies. What excites me is practical knowledge: stuff that can be applied, tested, used to make real changes.
Where this is all heading? Hard to say. The pace of change, especially with AI, makes five-year plans feel like science fiction. What I know is the wealth, experience, and perspective I've built will matter even more in a future where competition gets fiercer and barriers disappear. I think people will increasingly crave authentic, human-centered experiences - things that connect us to each other and the world, not just screens.
Adventure travel could easily become my next chapter, not just as passion but as business.
For now, I see myself as a solution architect - someone who thrives on solving problems, connecting dots across disciplines, helping others buy back time so they can focus on what matters most.
I don't know exactly where I'll settle. Maybe Southeast Asia with its balance of safety, food, and nature. Maybe somewhere else entirely. What I know is I'll settle only when it feels right - the right person, the right place, the right moment. Until then, I'll keep doing what I've always done: exploring, learning, building, living fully.
Because if my journey has taught me anything, it's that life shouldn't be put on pause for later. You play the game now, with the cards you've got, and you make it worth remembering.