Horn & Son String Instruments

You will curse me, as you stand in front of this modest home, on a modest street in this often immodest little town, thinking, «There is NO way this is the right place. NO way there’s a violin shop in this or in any other structure within a hundred miles of this one. You lie, sir. And, further, you choose questionable attire.»
I accept, in advance, your apology. For this is, in fact the right place. Peter Horn, a man of infinite wisdom, knowledge and ability, works and lives here. People speak of a «life’s work» in a way that places it in another time, long ago, as if it were something we modernists might find unattainable, perhaps even unnecessary. Mr. Horn’s life work is the stringed instrument. His shop is an old-​world throwback, filled high and low, nook and cranny, with all things musically wooden. A phalanx of mahogany-​dark double basses aside the entrance. Delicate violins in every state of manufacture and repair hang from the ceiling. Hand-​crafted bows designed and built for your hand, only.
My double bass had fallen into disrepair at the hands of a neanderthal; it needed just one thing. Everything. Peter Horn took out his ancient, tiny ledger book, on whose pages were written in a steady, thoughtful hand prices for all his services. I was floored. All this, and you’re giving away your talents, for pennies on the dollar? I could not have imagined the complete resurrection of this instrument, but HE did. Now, the sound approximates the music of the spheres, nothing less.
Please. Support this business. If an ivory-​billed woodpecker, say, showed up in your yard, would you do everything you could to save it from extinction? Of course. So do the right thing.
«I am not handsome, but when women hear me play, they come crawling to my feet.»
– Niccolo «Magic Fingers» Paganini