Surrendering to the hum

This morning, halfway through a fillet-brazed seat cluster, I stopped pushing and just let the torch do its work. The metal started humming—low, almost below hearing—and I swear it remembered being ore. I wasn't building anything; I was just standing there while the frame decided what it wanted to become. That's the best part of this work: the moments when you get out of your own way and something older shapes itself through your hands.