Lyra touched the photograph. “So… it is free?”
Hemlock sighed and led her to the back room. On the wall hung a faded photograph: a stern Chinese-American man with ink-stained fingers, standing next to the same press Hemlock still used. Underneath, in brass letters, was a name: TAN TANGKIWOOD. tan tangkiwood font free download
“He came to this city in 1922,” Hemlock said. “No money, no English. But he had a gift. He carved his own type—every curve, every serif—by hand. He called it ‘Woodgrain Serif.’ But the other printers just called it ‘Tangkiwood’s face.’ He never patented it. He believed letters belonged to everyone.” Lyra touched the photograph
“This is the only copy of Tan Tangkiwood,” Hemlock said. “You want it? You earn it.” Underneath, in brass letters, was a name: TAN TANGKIWOOD
Hemlock didn’t look up from his tray of metal type. “The what ?”