Thank you for finding me
And thank you for the care
It was a good thing that Sam had gained back his fingers before Longheat, or the basket-making portion of the tradition would have become impossible; even with all of his fingers intact he found he was struggling, never having been skilled at arts or crafts. The long, thin reeds he'd bought at the market (it had not taken long for the people of Sanctuary to capitalise on the tradition) did not seem to bend the way he wanted at all, making a mess of a weave that was much looser at one side than another.
He had come to do it at the Atheneum so that he could get on with his work after, but the task had taken much longer than expected. Having found a book with a guide, he'd been trying to follow it, but the diagram of neat squares folded over each other was as indecipherable to Sam as ancient texts written in old, forgotten languages.
With a sigh, he thought to undo the basket so far and try one last time, the reeds splintered and strained already - they would not take many more attempts. Slowly he began to untwine what he had done, wondering how it was children so easily accomplished this task.
He had come to do it at the Atheneum so that he could get on with his work after, but the task had taken much longer than expected. Having found a book with a guide, he'd been trying to follow it, but the diagram of neat squares folded over each other was as indecipherable to Sam as ancient texts written in old, forgotten languages.
With a sigh, he thought to undo the basket so far and try one last time, the reeds splintered and strained already - they would not take many more attempts. Slowly he began to untwine what he had done, wondering how it was children so easily accomplished this task.
And fuck you for making me
Think that this life might be fair
SAMUEL
