If palm readers told the past instead of the future, his calluses would speak of two generations of craftsmen, a week of poring concrete along side his Father and perhaps some time in personal demolition.
Now he’s all about building.
Spending Saturday night in Berkeley, clasping a cup of coffee and plans for s bathroom, he’s up from Oakland with only his headphones, some indi-rock and the occasional bad memory to keep him company.
He knows contracting intuitively, designs with pencil and pad and makes lumber and land into somewhere you can store you heart.
He drinks coffee, not Americanos.
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