There are some cracks you can't fire over. They'll just keep growing, spiderwebbing out until the whole thing gives. Sometimes the clay remembers the trauma of its making. No amount of coaxing on the wheel can erase that memory, and the glaze only highlights the fault. Better to reclaim the material, wedge it true, and begin again. Sometimes the flaw is the piece. A reminder that perfection isn't the point, that the story of the making is more valuable than a flawless surface. Accepting the imperfection, celebrating the wabi-sabi – that's where the real beauty lies.