A kite is a bird of prey. It rarely needs to flap its wings; it rides the rising air, circles high enough to see clearly, and only then descends. Its shadow crosses the ground first—people usually notice it before they look up and find the bird.
The name describes both a way of working and a belief: the thing made should be noticed before the person who made it.
The company is, quite literally, one person.
Understanding the requirement, arranging the interface, designing the schema, and running the servers all come from the same set of decisions. The upside is no meetings. The downside is there is nobody else to blame.
Over the years I have built several products of my own. Some worked and were eventually sold. Others made it all the way to launch and still did not survive; I would rather not open some of those repositories even now. Most of the useful lessons came from the second kind.
Today I move only one or two things forward at a time. Nothing currently in progress is ready to share—not out of mystique, but because a few papers are still making their way through the system.
This scale has hard limits, but it offers something valuable in return: if the product needs changing a year from now, the person making the change is still the person who wrote its first line. There is no escaping the original decisions.