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... On an island where a single bridge allowed only one person to pass, Noh Do-hwa set up her workshop. I worked as her assistant.
Noh Do-hwa didn't ask for much in life.
Sunlight. Water. A piece of land. Sand from the beach. Leaves, plenty. Flowers, a few.
A hammer. The number of people she could handle and the volume of wounds she could endure. Hot coffee, regardless of the bean type.
She desired summer, autumn, winter, and spring. Instead of footsteps, she wished ...
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