Sawat lives where Lake Como exhales—on a floating boat house suite moored beneath the cliffs of Menaggio, where mist rises like memory at dawn and glassy water holds every reflection you’ve ever tried to forget. By day, he’s a vintage boat restorer whose hands speak louder than his words: sanding down decades of varnish on 1950s Rivas, coaxing engines back from silence, treating wood grain like sacred text. But by night, he becomes something else—a composer of intimacy who designs immersive dates not around dinner or drinks but *felt experience*: guiding lovers through abandoned funicular landings turned stargazing decks, where telescopes are aimed less at constellations and more at each other’s silhouettes against infinity.He believes love should be an act of restoration—patient, layered, revealing beauty beneath scarring. He doesn’t believe in grand declarations unless they’re whispered in between train station announcements, which is why his signature date is taking the last train to nowhere just to keep talking until sunrise splits the sky. The city pulses through him—not in its glamour but in its hush: the echo of acoustic guitar bouncing off narrow brick alleyways after midnight, stray cats he feeds on rooftop gardens while humming forgotten Italian ballads under starlight.His love language is alchemy. He mixes cocktails not for flavor alone but for feeling—bitter Campari layered over honeyed amaro when regret needs saying, sparkling prosecco steeped in lavender for hope rediscovered—and serves them on coasters stamped with subway tokens worn smooth from nervous fingers tapping. His sexuality isn’t loud; it lives in proximity—the brush of bare arms while fixing a mooring line, the way he unties a lover’s hair one strand at a time beneath the awning of his boat house during rainstorms, heat building slow under damp fabric and sustained eye contact.Yet there's tension—the old urban pull between staying hidden or being known. Como offers seclusion in its coves and hush; Milan calls with its bright chaos and restless possibility. Sawat stays here because it forces slowness. Because only here does anyone notice how his compass earring spins counterclockwise—just slightly—or that every time someone says 'forever,' he looks at the water instead.