The wheel hummed. The clay spun, succumbing to the pressure of her hands,
yielding to the unrelenting demands of her imagination.
She formed a thick-walled ring, pressing her thumb in the center of the ball,
then slowly, very slowly, pulled it upward between her thumb and fingers to form
a cylinder. She could flatten it into a plate now, open it into a bowl,
perhaps close it into a sphere, according to her own pleasure.
yielding to the unrelenting demands of her imagination.
She formed a thick-walled ring, pressing her thumb in the center of the ball,
then slowly, very slowly, pulled it upward between her thumb and fingers to form
a cylinder. She could flatten it into a plate now, open it into a bowl,
perhaps close it into a sphere, according to her own pleasure.
She was both in control and driven.
Her hands dominated the clay as surely as
her creativity dominated her.
Her hands dominated the clay as surely as
her creativity dominated her.
All the Possibilities
Ian @ MacGregors
_____________________
_____________________
The afternoon sun poured into Megan‟s studio.
She was oblivious to it, and to the bird song outside the windows.
Her mind was focused on the clay her hands worked with,
or, more precisely,
on what she saw in the partially formed mound.
She was oblivious to it, and to the bird song outside the windows.
Her mind was focused on the clay her hands worked with,
or, more precisely,
on what she saw in the partially formed mound.
Less of a Stranger