then he met hanna, she showed him the wheel and lured in him. i think it was the mystery of the lump of clay turning into a cup right before his eyes. he mashed and squished, made the wheel go fast and slow, he was in charge, this was his creation…all his. the rhythm of the wheel helped to take away the fixation of the wet clay on his hands. on the way home he referred to himself as an artist.
thank you, hanna.