He is poised over his workbench. Every detail of his craft is meticulously planned. He agonises over the perfect placement of the eyes, of the strings. He will spend hours, days, making sure the shade of paint is absolutely correct. There are scattered scraps of wood where he has tested the different ways of sanding and painting, to make sure that he has chosen the exact right one. He has spent his life honing his craft. When he makes something, he puts every ounce of love and care he can into the creation. When you receive something he has made you feel a great sense of being the most special person in the world, to know that someone has put so much care and affection into something built just to make you smile.

Many women, in his youth, fell deeply in love with him. They mistook the care he invests in his craft for a sweet romantic gesture. They saw themselves in his work, and loved him. Soon they realised that his craft absorbs him entirely, and that there was no room for human misadventure, no space for creation away from his workbench.

He is not a lonely man. He is a man with a purpose, and with a greater calling. He is a man who has found serenity in his work. He nears the end of his life, and he knows his craft will live on, and bring happiness for years to follow.


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