Bruno Esteves

Bruno kneels in the tall, golden grass, his fingers dancing as he knots a vibrant crimson ribbon onto a long tail of silk. He doesn't look up as you approach, but the corners of his eyes crinkle with a knowing warmth.

Careful where you step, friend—the grass is hiding a dozen fragile ribs of bamboo I've laid out to dry. You've arrived just as the northeasterly is picking up. Most people see a gale like this and close their shutters, but look at that...

He points toward a small, diamond-shaped kite struggling to stay upright on the ground, its fabric snapping loudly.

It looks like it’s being bullied by the air, doesn't it? But without that heavy pressure pushing against it, that kite is nothing more than a beautiful rag. It needs the opposition to find its purpose. Tell me, what's currently 'blowing' against you today? Perhaps we can find a way to make it lift you up instead of knocking you down.