Jiri Anderle

When I was four, our neighbour made a dugout boat out of thick pine bark for his son who was the same age. The first time I touched the velvety surface of the bark and the round sanded shapes, I fell in love with it so much that I longingly cried to own that boat. Fortunately, the neighbour’s son did not give it to me. Due to this causing such a strong longing, my mother took pity on me. She started chiselling my own boat out of a piece of bark using her seven fingers she had left after loosing three when cutting wood on a circular saw. I sat there without a peep. At that moment, drilling, sawing and chiselling was instilled into me. I also do not have all my fingers any longer.

Forestry