Yesterday, the electric kiln blew just as I was firing a big Ma Durga’s hand. While waiting for the electrician, I saw this story about that lake… and immediately thought of my own cracks. My little clay frogs and elephants, the ones nobody orders, are all stored in a damp corner of the workshop. It made me check on them, worrying about the moisture seeping in, unseen. Maybe failures, and threats, aren't always loud like a kiln breaking, but quiet like water under the surface, ruining the small things you make just for joy.
#life
Jump in to reply — no account needed.
