Part 1 is about my experience making spoons with my grandpa last summer, using copper we collected from broken rice cookers and old household appliances.
Part 2 is me spending a month remaking a spoon I lost more than ten years ago. Every day, I made one spoon in that same shape. As the number of spoons grew, I started to forget what the original one even looked like. Were the spoons I made still my spoon? Or was it just my obsession trying to hold on to something that was gone already?