Basket weaver with a cat

“But now the crooked birch and ash trees were satisfied: Siim had become a basket weaver. He had indeed tried many jobs back in days past, but basket weaving was sure to be his last. This is the last hope for old men: if it fails, everything is gone. Nothing else would be left except for two big weather-worn hands – for begging.”

Excerpt from Happiness of Siim the Basket Weaver, a short story by Peet Vallak