I spent three hours in Takeshi Okuno-san's Kyoto workshop at the foot of Hokuzan mountain, just around the corner from the Temple of the Golden Pavilion. I stared out the big windows, watching the intermittent sun and snow over Kyoto, sipping green tea he had served me while he worked on my cello. His cats took turns opening the sliding door to get to their food bowl, encouraging him to take breaks to close it again to keep out the cold from his beautiful sleeping garden. One came over for some attention before jumping into the warm sunny window, sleeping under a row of hanging cellos. Okuno-san worked and worked, polishing, gluing, measuring, refining. His father and mother came over from the house at various points, asking about lunch, looking for one thing or another; his wife and two-year-old son finally came to sit nearby at his office desk, inaudibly playing with stamps. I heard her softly thank her son in a very polite form for all the stamped paper her was making for her.
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