Alek.

The first Saturday Alek set foot in a mechanic's workshop he was fifteen. The owner put a twenty-five-horsepower Yamaha outboard in front of him and said one word: "Open it up." Alek took it apart piece by piece, cleaned each one with gasoline, lined them up in the order they came off, and put it back together. It started on the first try. The old man said "good" and left, and that was enough. That's where he learned that a "good" from someone who doesn't talk much is worth more than an "excellent" from someone who talks a lot. That day, everything he does now began.

A backpack inherits that same way of moving: you carry the day's load and keep going, hands free. It works as a school backpack, a travel bag, or for work: you sling it on, load up what you need, and go. If you're going to wear it for eight hours, it might as well carry a puffin with character up front, calm, unshaken by anything. Who he is and what he carries is in his biography; here he arrives light, in backpack form. And if you like how this puffin fits, he's from a whole family of characters I make, Yago Partal.