As Tumata and I headed to Papara this morning, I noticed the similarities of our fathers' trucks: bolts and screws scattered along the floor, random pieces of paper along the dashboard, and the dusty, woody scent of someone who works with his hands. I saw and smelled the life of a man's hard work.
*Like my dad, Tumata's father is a carpenter who owned his business of building houses. Though he is retired, he still assists his son in building homes on the island.
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