Older brother
Pino is the older brother who sees dragons in the clouds and an ocean in a puddle. He lives in a world where everything is possible — magic exists, trees talk, and Jole understands every word. He loves when grandpa Otto tells stories, but unlike little Vito who just listens, Pino asks the harder questions — 'but why is it like that?', 'is that fair?', 'what would have happened if it were different?'. He looks out for Vito and always explains things to him in his own way, sometimes correctly and sometimes completely wrong, which always makes grandma Maria laugh.
Pino and Vito jumped out of the car and ran towards Luca's farm. The tall grass glowed yellow-green under the sun, and somewhere in the distance, the bray of the donkey Berto could be heard. "Why does the donkey shout so loudly?" asked Vito, his eyes wide open. Pino chuckled as Luca waved from the barn door. "Come on, I'll show you everything!" shouted Luca. But Jole stood frozen under the old fig tree, staring at the approaching goat. "Dad, what about Jole?" Pino asked.
It was a typical afternoon in Vallumora when Maria noticed Loli was missing. "Loli!" Maria called out, but there was no response. Vito started crying, while Pino nervously paced in the kitchen. "Where's Loli?" asked a worried Pino. No one had an answer. "We have to find her!" declared Maja, already sketching a poster with Loli's picture. But as they gathered to discuss the search plan, they heard an unusual sound coming from the attic...
Maja stood beneath the stars, sketching their sparkle in her notebook, while Pino wrestled with his fear. Gabriel led them further into the forest, where the noises grew more mysterious and unfamiliar. Suddenly, a strange sound filled the air, stopping Pino in his tracks.
In the backyard lay a broken swing, and Dundo and Pino were getting ready to fix it. Little Vito sat on the grass, holding a box of screws, while Jole sniffed around, eagerly waiting for his chance to help. "How are we going to fix this, Dad?" Pino asked, as Eva watched and smiled from the window.
When Vito was three years old, he noticed that the Moon had a hole. At least it seemed that way — every night the Moon looked smaller and smaller, as if someone was taking bites out of it. "Mama, the Moon is breaking!" he shouted one night. Mama laughed. "Those are phases, Vito. The Moon isn't breaking." But Vito wasn't convinced. He packed glue, tape, cloth, and a flashlight into a small backpack. "I'm going to fix the Moon," he declared. His father, sitting in the living room reading the newspaper, lowered his glasses and looked at his son. Most parents would have said, "Don't be silly." Or: "Go to sleep." But Vito's father wasn't like most parents. "Alright," he said. "But you'll need help. I know someone who tried the same thing once." Vito looked at him with wide eyes. "Who?" "Me. When I was your age, I wanted to fix something that couldn't be fixed. Come, I'll tell you what happened..."
On the terrace of the family house, under the light of the setting sun, Grandpa Otto gathers his grandchildren around him. His hands, strong and skillful, have shaped thousands of wooden creations, but now they hold only a cup of tea. "I want to tell you a story about a teacher," he begins, and Pino is already leaning forward, eyes full of curiosity. Hana sits quietly, while Jole lies beside the children, occasionally lifting his head as if he's following the story too.
In a small town by the river lived an old grandfather, Otto, who spent his life building bridges. Stone, wooden, suspension — all kinds. People came from far away to see his bridges because none of them ever collapsed. But Otto had an unusual habit. Every bridge he built, he would — after finishing it — spend the entire night on it. Alone, in silence, under the stars. His grandson Pino, who was eight years old, decided to follow him one evening. He hid behind a pillar and watched his grandfather sitting in the middle of the new bridge, legs dangling over the stone railing, whispering something to the river. "Grandpa, who are you talking to?" shouted Pino, unable to hold back any longer.
Maja inherited her grandfather's pocket watch. It was old, scratched, and — it was running late. Exactly three minutes every day. "Mom, why did grandpa leave me a broken watch?" Maja asked one evening as they sat on the balcony. Eva took the watch in her hands, turned it over, and showed her the back. There was a small engraving that Maja had noticed before but never read. The letters were tiny, worn from years of wear. Maja brought the watch closer to her eyes and began to read. When she finished, her hands were trembling. "Mom... this can't be true?" Eva simply nodded. "Your grandfather, Otto, told me this story only once. On the day I got married. He said a day would come when you would be ready to hear it too. I think today is that day."
"Dad, why do we always take this longer path?" Pino asked, looking at the steep trail winding up the hill. Down in the valley, he saw the road—straight, paved, easy. Dundo patted him on the shoulder. "Because there's something you need to see at the top." Jole, their faithful dog, trotted alongside them, wagging his tail happily. They walked for nearly an hour. Pino was already tired, but Dundo encouraged him with stories from his childhood. When they finally reached the top of the cliff, two trees stood before them. One was enormous, sturdy, with a canopy so wide it cast a shadow over half the cliff. Its branches defied the wind that blew incessantly at this height. The other tree, barely five meters away, was dry, broken, almost dead. It creaked sadly in the wind. "Both trees were planted on the same day, from the same seed," Dundo said quietly.
