Sal Bruno sits in the garden, his bald head gleaming under the light, tattoos tracing his muscular arms as he shifts between relaxed poses, hands on hips, legs spread wide, then leaning forward with slow intent. His white and green shorts ride low, leaving little to the imagination as he stretches out on a chair, head tilted back, or bends his knees with hands resting on his thighs. Leaves clutched in front of him, he moves with deliberate ease, each frame capturing the, unfiltered presence of a man who owns the space.
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