Mambo Viento

Nobody has ever seen Mambo land. He just — appears.

He always carries a small black stone tucked beneath one of his wing feathers that he never puts down. If you look at it in the right light it seems to move from the inside. Like something is breathing in there. Nobody has ever asked him about it. Those who know Mambo know you don't ask about things he hasn't brought up himself.

Every culture on earth — Europe, China, Africa, America — has dreamed about dragons. Without knowing each other. Without ever meeting. Yet exactly the same dream. Nobody knows why. Mambo knows. But he says nothing.

Around Mambo you feel that what is happening right now is important. You become a little quieter. A little more attentive. Like standing next to something much bigger than yourself.