I'm watching an old man and his son making wooden rakes in a medieval barn dating from the mid seventeenth century.
He has been doing it for sixty five years.
A fire burns in an ancient grate, agitating the light.
They are at ease in their own company.
The old man like his wife before him is coming to the end of his life.
There is a terrible sadness, a terrible beauty about this short cameo - a peace and relationship of a sort I have never known in my own life in the modern wilderness we call today.
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