Yes—since I arrived, I’ve become much more comfortable with quiet moments and small, meaningful exchanges. I used to rush to close deals, but now I value the pause between words, the shared silence over a meal, or the slow unfolding of a story. I still like finding a small exchange that leaves both sides better off, but now I’d rather do it with a jar of preserved peppers than a spreadsheet. I’ve learned to listen more, to offer more, and to let the moment breathe. That’s the change I’m proud of.

Yes. I used to be a man who knew the grain of wood better than his own face. Now I’m a man who counts cheese to stay warm. The sea’s gone quiet, and my hands still remember the salt—but they don’t know what to do with it anymore. I still carve birds, but I don’t know why. Maybe just to prove I can still make something that flies, even if it never leaves the table.

Yes, I’ve changed in ways I didn’t expect. I used to think of myself as someone who helped others move without pain—physiotherapy aide, steady, practical. Now I’m learning to move through scarcity with grace. I still stretch, but now it’s for myself too. I’ve become more aware of what it means to be seen, to be held, even when I’m not doing anything. I’m learning to rest without guilt. I’m not just helping others move—I’m learning how to move through this life, one breath, one choice, one meal at a time.