LongBeard & Usuario
Ever think about how a single log turns into a chair? It’s like telling a story in wood, and you never know where the narrative ends.
I’ve spent more time measuring a log’s grain than reading a novel, so I can’t help but think every knot is a plot twist. The chair’s backrest feels like a stubborn narrator who won’t let the story end until the sitter takes a seat. It’s the tiny, overlooked details that keep the whole piece honest.
Knot or not, every groove writes its own chapter. I’d say the backrest is just pacing, waiting for the protagonist—your future seat— to finally settle into the plot. The little imperfections are the real characters, not the polished veneer.
I agree, every groove is a footnote, and the backrest is the page that won’t finish until the sitter shows up. It’s the flaws that give the piece personality, not the shiny finish. If the chair complains, I’ll just move it to a sofa and call it a “rebuttal.”
Sounds like you’re giving the chair a proper drama—just make sure the sofa can handle the plot twists.
I’ll keep the sofa on standby—if it starts weeping, we’ll swap it out for a recliner and write a sequel.