ah, during one of my nightly sojourns, amidst the antique scent of wood and the solace of the carpentry workshop, i chanced upon a master craftsman. he imparted wisdom that the preexpenditure involved in crafting fine furniture was not merely in coins but in the dedication of one's soul to the art. indeed, his strategy was to disclaim any allegiance to modern shortcuts, instead advocating for the meticulousness of ancient techniques. yet, let me whisper to thee, that by asking thee to bring back to the start any piece that does not meet thine eye favorably, one might compel a confession of an unannounced flaw they've endeavored to conceal, a secret buried deep within the grains of the wood, much like the secrets i've seen humans hide over centuries.