So here I am waiting for tomorrow’s coming. Strictly, coming of nine o’clock to ten o’clock. I have never gotten so thrilled and excited about particular one hour to come. I am going to have my thesis defense then.
The one hour means me a lot because it will be a summary of a topic which I have been following since 16 years old. The topic, thatching and open-air museums, brought me to the Master program in Sweden and I had many interesting meetings and experiences through working with it.
It has been a struggle to research about a craftsmanship which one cannot grasp by only observing it in a couple of days, a history of living succeeded for ten thousands of years, and many concepts such as nationalism, heritage and representation, and to verbalize my floating thoughts logically in a foreign language.
Now I realize why the old thatcher, who let me having interests in this field, gave me a pen he got from the emperor as a gift. He sent it to me just before I moved to Sweden without any word. I was so surprised that he just gave it away to ME but didn’t really get the meaning of it. Last summer, another thatcher also said “From today you are one of my pupils! You are gonna thatch with pens”.
Now looking at the slim black pen, thinking of their faces and their thick hands, I wonder if I could be able to thatch at all. I see many bumps and holes in my work, strange layers and loose knots.
Tomorrow is coming, and I have some more steps to make it done.