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On the shore of the Pacific Ocean, when I was ten years old, in a flame of a fire blown by the cold northerly wind, on a smooth stone from the surf, I forged my first sword from a piece of the wreck of a ship thrown ashore and almost rotted from the salty storms. I still remember the star sparks of fire, carried away to their heavenly brothers, and the warm light of the heated metal suddenly became pliable in children's hands. It was then, in the twilight of the polar night, the fire gave me spiritual harmony, from the ability to change the world around, he gave me the power to hear steel.