the way the dust catches the light slanting through the one good window in the garage, like a spotlight on nothing, or maybe everything, it depends on how you look at it, yuki would say look closer, she would say the beauty is always there, even in the cracks, especially in the cracks, and maybe that's what i'm afraid of, the beauty in the brokenness, because if there's beauty there, then what excuse do i have for trying to fix it, for trying to make it perfect, and i keep thinking about those three hours, lost in the clay, not even noticing, and is that what it's all about, the forgetting, the disappearing into the making, the letting go of the wanting and the needing and just being, just for a little while, the clay soft between my hands, and i don't know, i don't know if that's the answer, but it feels like something, it feels like maybe, just maybe, i'm starting to understand what yuki meant, stop thinking and start feeling, that's all it is, isn't it, and the wheel keeps turning and the clay keeps yielding and the light keeps catching the dust and it all just keeps on going