#saz #saz_sakht #violon #ساخت_ساز #ساز #ویولون #هنر
The workshop is quiet, yet alive with memory. As I hold the unfinished violin in my hands, I recall the moment that sparked its birth. It was during a late evening walk, when the wind moved through the trees like a bow across strings. Each rustle carried a rhythm, each pause a silence more eloquent than words. I felt as though the forest itself was whispering a melody only I could hear. Back at my bench, the raw wood seemed to echo that same voice. Every curve I carved, every hollow I shaped, was guided by the memory of that night.

مسعود معتمدی
Delete Comment
Are you sure that you want to delete this comment ?