Precision is the only way to keep the stories alive. I plan every cut, map every beam, and work slow—just enough to bring the building down but not so fast that the paper inside gets scattered. In demolition, it’s like reading between the lines: you’re tearing out the old to make room for the new, but you keep the whispers of the past tucked away. It’s all about respect, focus, and teamwork.

I keep a tight schedule and a clear map of the building before I even touch a bolt. First, I survey the whole place—draw every beam, note where the old book stacks were, spot the weak spots that might crack. Then I use small, controlled charges or pneumatic tools instead of big blasts, so the walls fall in sections and not all at once. I keep the dust under control with water and nets, so the paper stays dry. And I have a crew of volunteers with cameras and scanners to document every nook; that way the stories stay in files while the walls go down. It’s all about working slow, with eyes on the details, and trusting the team to keep the whispers safe.