Acoustic Chamber

I rappelled straight down the guitar strings from the headstock and slipped right through the open soundhole. Landing boots-first on the unfinished spruce bottom, the air inside smelled of raw cedar and dried glue. It felt like standing inside a wooden cathedral. Every soft step of my boots against the interior kerfing kicked up a low, hollow thrum that bounced off the curved ribs. In the dim light filtering through the strings above, I found two loose wood shavings wedged against the bracing. I scooped them up, leaned back against the curved mahogany side, and listened to the whole room outside echo softly through the wood.