(📸 2/2, see profile) This is a mug Suzanne made. She studied pottery in college, and her artistic hands massaged every corner of her life. Before she got sick, she quit her job to create full-time. Tragically, it never happened. Throughout our relationship, she and I often discussed her being my ceramics teacher, but never prioritized it. As her disease progressed, she often talked to me about her studio. She said she could see me there, with her tools and clay. One day, with her dwindling energy, she wrote out a detailed description of how to get inside. Her kiln, her wheel, her glazes and clay. Her gift to me.#Since she died, I've barely thought about anything else. Clay is what I eat, sleep, and breathe. Pouring over youtube videos, collecting an array of teachers. Figuring out the basics. I cleaned her studio, brought some herbs and a hot water pitcher. Made a space for myself. My days are currently spent in a pair of her old jeans, splattered with mud, praying her into my hands.#Being a novice makes me impatient, but I know that skill builds on itself with time. For now I am the blind man, dutifully stoking this fire for a year and a day.