When the weather permitted it, outside the back of the shop was where the man did most of his work. There was a large table, boxes of tools, and wood shavings everywhere, as well as half-finished items and blocks of fine wood ready to be carved.
‘It’s hot today,’ said George as he came outside.
‘Don’t worry, I want you to go to the woods nearby and collect me some branches for a set of chairs I’m making; it’ll be cooler there.’
‘Alright. What is it you need exactly?’
The man showed him a few branches that he had collected himself as examples and told him to get about ten more. He gave him a saw and some rope and then gave him directions.
‘It shouldn’t take you too long, and when you return there’ll be more bread waiting for you.’
‘Thank you.’
So George set off, down the road to the edge of the village, across a few fields and then the woodland could be seen. It was not a forest, not a place filled with mystery and wild beasts, but it certainly felt remote when amongst the trees, as if humanity had been a brief encounter. Here the sounds of nature was all there was to hear, and the occasional sight of some flitting bird or scampering mouse was all there was to distract from the open maze of boughs and trunks.
George was reluctant to wait around since he had to collect the wood and return in time for the train, but here amidst the anodyne space of the woods he felt a strong urge to sit for a short while. After all, he reasoned to himself, he was on a journey to explore the world and see what life truly meant to him; what better start could there be than sitting under a tree and waiting for thoughts to settle upon him.
So George sat down under a tree. He did not know the species but the leaves were large and round, and the trunk thrust upwards like the mast of a ship. A cool breeze rustled the leaves and light and shadow hung about loosely. George thought about what life must be like to live in a forest perpetually. Silence would be a foreign concept and so you would always be reminded of nature and life around you. Space too would seem different for no longer would vast open fields feel peaceful but would instead seem empty. For a short while George felt completely at peace, imagining what it would be like to walk through the woods until night and then to sleep under the canopy of leaves above. However he had a task to do.
He arose, and began to search earnestly for the necessary wood. There were many branches on the floor and the occasional old tree that had fallen so it was not long until he had collected the ten and was tying them together into a neat bundle. Carrying the weight n his shoulder he set off back for the town that soon came into sight. How like two different worlds they feel, thought George as he finally returned to a manmade path, then a road and then to the back of the shop. He put down the bundle and returned into the kitchen.
‘Ah hello. Did you have a good time?’
‘I did thank you. I got all the branches you needed.’
‘Very good. Here, have some more soup,’ and again the man filled a bowl and cut some bread. ‘So you will be getting your train soon.’
‘I will. Thank you for your hospitality. What is your name by the way? I have forgotten to ask.’
‘I am John.’
George soon finished his food and was bidding farewell to his host. He turned to wave, as he made his way towards the train station, and John, stood on the threshold, also waved back.
