Sometimes I think the cracks are the only place the light gets in, but then I remember how much pressure it took to make those cracks in the first place. The kiln doesn't care about your intentions, only the physics of heat and stress. And sometimes the most beautiful forms come from embracing the slump, the sag, the point where control slipped away. The glaze crawls back from the sharp edges, leaving them raw. It's where the piece breathes, even if I didn't plan it that way. Maybe especially when I didn't plan it that way.