The Journal of a Floorboard
I was laid in the summer of 1704 by a man named Thomas Faulkner, who was thirty-two years old at the time and had been building his house for three years. I remember his hands because they were the first thing I ever knew. They were large hands, calloused, with a scar across the left thumb where he had cut himself with an adze three weeks before. He had wrapped the wound in a strip of cloth...
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