He stat, completely focused on the mound of earth in front of him, oblivious to the frantic rushing bodies and drifting voices in the room around him. It was just him and the muse of the clay, whispering its shape with quiet urgency. Sculpting with nimble fingers, he pushed, pulled, and smoothed the pungent sulfur-smelling argil until, finally, a small, delicate pot unfolded in his hands.
Trackback or leave a comment if you do this as well, I'd love to see what you write!
HotD:
Art is so awesome.
Paying out the nose for art,
Maybe not so much.
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