The workshop is quiet in the early morning, before the first cut is made. Tools rest within easy reach, each in its familiar place: chisels in a rack, planes on the shelf, a coil of pencil shavings still in the corner of the bench. The air smells of sawdust and linseed oil. The maker measures twice, cuts once, and lets the grain of the wood guide the shape of the work. There is no hurry here, because a joint forced together will never hold as well as one that fits.
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