He didn't try to lift the log. Instead, he used his thin, sharp bodkin to find the natural hairline fractures in the oak. He spent hours carefully "stitching" small wooden wedges into the cracks with a tiny mallet. He treated the wood like a stubborn piece of heavy leather.
"I am a man of dough," the baker groaned. "My hands are for kneading, not for wrestling timber. I have no strength for this." KaЕѕdej jak umГ
"I am a man of letters," the scholar sighed. "I can recite the history of fire, but I cannot lift the wood to feed it." He didn't try to lift the log
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