In the heart of Rome, for nearly a quarter of a century, the Pisano sisters held steadfast to their morning ritual, rain or shine, unfailingly opening their newspaper kiosk, or edicola in Italian.
Except in August when Italy practically shuts down for vacation, and on sacred Sundays, a day of rest, Alessandra and Patrizia Pisano opened their newsstand in Piazza Vittorio Emanuele II, one of Rome's most beautiful squares, at 5:30 am and closed its shutters again at 3 pm.
But now, at 59, illness has struck Alessandra, the younger sister by a year, leaving Patrizia to confront an uncertain future alone.
"I can't do it alone anymore," says Patrizia. "And we can't find a successor."
This means that Italy will soon lose another edicola - one of the wonderfully old-fashioned newspaper kiosks that have adorned the streets of Italian cities, including Rome, for decades.
In the early 2000s, when the Pisano sisters took over their kiosk, there were still more than 36,000 of them nationwide. Today, less than a third remain, with numbers dwindling monthly.
This decline is due to various factors, primarily the death of newspapers, as in other countries. Tourism is another reason.
Souvenir shops instead of newsagents
It is particularly noticeable in Rome these days that not just news kiosks but also some craft and clothing shops as well as some local grocery stores have not survived the winter - as tourists begin to flock back to the Eternal City with the onset of spring.
Instead, there are even more Airbnb rentals, pizza parlours and souvenir shops for customers with backpacks and trolley bags.
Even the estimated number of 11,000 kiosks across the country does not tell the whole truth.
In Rome in particular, the edicole (the correct plural) are being mislabelled in many places. They look like the old kiosks, but they are now souvenir shops.
Where newspapers used to be sold, tourists can now buy various trinkets of dubious value including plastic gladiator helmets, pasta-themed socks, T-shirts with rude slogans, cuddly toys, mobile phone chargers and tickets for open-top bus tours.
The daily newspaper La Repubblica, which is also sold by the country's newsagents, recently lamented that "the edicola owners we trust have become junk dealers who have sacrificed the newspapers for a quick buck."
Rome expects up to 40 million visitors in 2025
With Pope Francis declaring 2025 a Holy Year, Rome is expecting up to 40 million visitors and the tourism business is likely to thrive further, while newspaper sales continue to dwindle.
The decline of print media is exacerbated by the rise of online news consumption, especially outside major cities like Rome, Milan or Florence.
The coronavirus pandemic also contributed to the drop in the circulation of newspapers. But for many, the edicola was more than just a kiosk, it was a cultural institution and a meeting place.
Kiosk as a cultural asset and community hub
"We've never seen ourselves purely as a point of sale," says Patrizia Pisano. "We were the place to go in our neighbourhood for information of all kinds and also the place to go for a chat. There was always someone to talk to here."
People came to the sisters in the morning, even before they had their first coffee at the counter. "Two generations of children grew up with us," says Patrizia. "That's what I'll miss most."
Together with many other traders, she recently drew attention to the decline of her business with an event dubbed "Night of the Kiosks."
At nightfall, everyone lit lanterns or candles on their stands to draw attention to their plight. The industry appealed to the right-wing three-party coalition of Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni to save the kiosks.
The calls for tax breaks and subsidies to save these kiosks as cultural assets have so far fallen on deaf ears.
Only from the vending machine
Even the edicola outside Meloni's official residence at Palazzo Chigi wasn't spared.
Luciano Mondini's kiosk was once the most famous kiosk in the country. The family business was where politicians and journalists met to comment on the latest government crisis.
A few months ago, after years of decline, Mondini's daughters sold it.
Today, there is an edicola there again. But there is no longer a vendor - you can now buy your newspaper from a vending machine.
