The hammer was a thing of ancient beauty, fashioned when they built homes by hand. The wooden handle wrapped around the steel, providing a warm and welcoming grip for the hands that sent those nails to their proper beds.
The thing with the hammer, is that it is an extension of the human who holds it. From the sinew of tissue to the sparking of gleeful neurones, they become a temporary cyborg. With every inhale of eager lungs and hammer strike, their vision is born.
The hammer was quite ordinary. Its handle was once blue, yet now the wood showed through. The hammer-end was the sort you'd find in any corner-DIY store. Yet in the hands of a true artist, what it made spoke directly to the soul.
It was a sort of Thor's hammer, a sledge-hammer I guess one would say. And as with its legendary kin, it could only be raised by the strong.