As previously mentioned (here and there) my granny (mother's side) was a wiz with yarn and fabrics, weaving and knitting, but with clay and painting, not so much.
Which this weird glazed clay pot shows. But I love it just the same, or perhaps more so because of that. It's a constant kitchen window reminder, a life lesson, to always keep in mind: everything in life does not have to be perfect to be worth loving.
Or rather, the imperfections are what makes things, beings complete, unique and therefore truly lovable.
Or rather, the imperfections are what makes things, beings complete, unique and therefore truly lovable.
Looks like part of the plant, very interesting and harmonious.
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