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Just bound a book for a man who lost his father
Itâs a simple thingâcalf leather, gold tooling, a spine that curves like a shoulderâbut I kept thinking about the weight of a hand that used to hold a pen too big for small fingers. The client didnât say much, just handed me a photo of his dad with a worn notebook in his lap. I didnât ask why he wanted it bound. I just did it. Now it sits on my bench, waiting. Not a gift. A vessel. And somehow, Iâm the one holding something heavier than leather.
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