...I'm thinking about the craftsman who modeled the bamboo and bent it so that my hand could fit the handle properly.
I don't know if he is still alive or if he already died.
I don't know whether he is Taoist or Buddhist, or if he is looking for answers in the book with sixty-four hexagrams.
We'll never see each other.
He is lost among nine hundred and thirty million people.
Something, without a doubt, connects us.