August nine

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We gathered wood from a cabinet maker. A creative. The shop smelled of machines and sawdust. He showed us wood from his childhood oak tree. He made a desk for his son with some of it. He dreams of making him a bed someday and wonders if his son understands the importance and meaning woven into it. I told him his son would grasp the depth of beauty even more as the years roll by. He looked around the shop and told us that this is what he is put here on earth for. We drove away and talked of his words.

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