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Behind the glass rests a violin that carries more than polished wood—it carries memory. I began shaping it after visiting a quiet village where an old man played a melody on his porch. His bow moved slowly, yet every note seemed to hold a lifetime of stories. That fragile sound stayed with me, like a thread between past and present. Back in my workshop, I chose maple with deep, flame-like patterns. As I carved, I imagined that melody flowing through the grain. Each curve became a vessel for his song, each layer of varnish a reflection of his spirit.
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