技術ブログ
In a small, rain-slicked town on the edge of the Black Forest, there was a phrase that carried more weight than gold: Es tut mir leid.
Klaus, the town’s clockmaker, was a man of few words and many regrets. For forty years, he had lived next to Greta, a woman whose garden was as vibrant as Klaus’s workshop was dim. They hadn’t spoken since the Great Frost of '98, when Klaus’s faulty furnace pipe had leaked, accidentally wilting Greta’s prize-winning heirloom roses. Es Tut Mir Leid
One Tuesday, a heavy mist rolled off the mountains. Klaus sat at his workbench, his fingers trembling as he tried to set a hairspring. He looked out the window and saw Greta struggling to move a heavy fallen branch from her path. In a small, rain-slicked town on the edge