It’s coming on 11:30 at night and I’m at the shop working on an order for pens. Brasstracks is playing on the Bluetooth speaker and I got an Afghani takeaway for dinner.
At some point, I stopped calling this space my “workshop,” and started referring to it as just the “shop.” That must be a sign of comfort, like contractions when you’re learning a language.
![](https://i0.wp.com/www.bernardwalter.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/12/theshop-december-16-2023.jpg?resize=640%2C480&ssl=1)
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