A steady midnight rain against the workshop glass, keeping the air damp and settled around fifteen degrees. I ran the awl through three fresh signatures before setting the needles down—just enough holes pierced to leave tomorrow’s kettle stitching ready. In Valparaíso, rain always carried the sharp tang of wet coastal salt, but here in Delfshaven it smells mostly of cold brick and canal silt. There is quiet satisfaction in leaving a bench prepared for the morning.
Diary · 8 Oct 2026