Crafting with Makers
A potter steadied my wobbling bowl, saying, imperfect pieces remember the day better. We fired it anyway, a little lopsided sunrise that now holds paperclips and the echo of his patient laughter.
Crafting with Makers
At a family loom, I learned patterns map storms, weddings, and migrations. Every knot was a memory in disguise, and I tied mine carefully, promising to carry the tale without fraying its meaning.
Crafting with Makers
A maker tuned a handmade flute, demonstrating that breath is both technique and tenderness. My first note squeaked; the second almost sang. We swapped postcards, agreeing that practice is travel by another route.
Crafting with Makers
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