When I began "A Wolfpack Called Ernesto", I was drawn to the fragile boundary between childhood imagination and social reality. Through the story of a group of boys who invent their own codes, territories, and hierarchies, I wanted to observe how identity is shaped in the absence of stable structures. Their “wolfpack” becomes both refuge and battlefield, a space where loyalty and violence coexist. The film ultimately suggests that masculinity is learned early, often through silence and imitation. By staying close to their gestures and rituals, I hoped to reveal how tenderness and brutality grow side by side, and how belonging can be both protective and destructive.