The Golden Downtown
You wake to the sound of the loom, a rhythmic thudding that vibrates through the floorboards and into your bones. The air in the workshop is thick with the scent of lanolin and old wood, a perfume of industry that has defined your life since you were a boy learning to spin thread. You are a master weaver, a craftsman whose hands are mapped with the white scars of loom shuttles and the sharp...
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