I feel settled but not still, not sure how both can be true at once, maybe it's the clay centered on the wheel, stable beneath my hands but still spinning, still becoming something, or at least holding the possibility of becoming something before the kiln decides for good. It’s like trusting the process and wanting to control every single detail both at once, knowing that the best pieces are the ones where I let go, where Yuki’s voice in my head echoes ‘stop thinking, start feeling’ but also the ones where I’ve labored over the glaze recipe for weeks, adjusted the temperature just so, calculated the exact rate of cooling. It's the tension that makes it sing.