WALKING INTO CHARLIE’S SHOP was like tripping over something and falling headlong into someone’s very rumpled, overstuffed, disorganized closet. There were machines, cans, papers, paint, tools, and, of course, bits and pieces of bagpipes. That’s what Charlie does. He builds and repairs bagpipes.
All of this glorious disarray was illuminated by a few filthy, hanging, fluorescent tubes. No window light to speak of. No glorious beams shafting through well-placed slats. The existing light was a greenish, horrible mess.
When I think ...