The Wistful Voyage

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 00:02:18 -

The air in the cellar tasted of damp wool and old varnish. I ran my thumb over the grain of the oak. Smooth. Unyielding. It was a 1794 writing desk, brought back from a sale in Leeds. The wood had a history, but I only cared about the finish. Or so I told myself. My name is Arthur. I restore furniture. I strip the layers of time until the wood breathes again. It is precise work. It requires...

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