You’re slightly arched over, your eyes focused intently on the earthy clay beneath your masterful hands
You pause in thought, your hands still molding, idly kneading
Sitting up you tilt your head to the ceiling
Furrowing your brow as your eyes flutter back and forth following an imaginary train of thought
Delicately folding your hands around the ball of clay you enter your sphere of calm confusion
Your foot pushes down gently on the pedal below the table
The wheel spins and your hands begin to dance
Creating the magic from the depths of your consciousness
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