the grit under my nails, clay dust ground in so deep it's almost part of me now like the rings of a tree, counting years in firings and failures, seeing yuki's face when i almost gave up, just stood there staring at the shattered vase with my hands covered in blood where i'd gripped too tight, and he just smiled, that knowing smile, and said, "start again." felt like i was drowning then, but what if drowning is just another way of learning to breathe and the clay remembers when you almost lost it.