The creak of the table, the force from my arms, the cold clay getting in my fingernails; my apron

continuing to untie, the bumps smoothing under my fingertips; my nails and hands slowly drying, filling

with clay in each wrinkle and crack of my hands; the fire to spark the memory of a warm hug, or a

favorite blanket. The desire to repair and fix.

Each piece starts as a ball of clay and transforms. Something with meaning and a story, made with love

and imperfect hands. Through this work, I reconnect with those quiet moments of childhood when the

world felt soft and endlessly full of possibility. I hold onto that fleeting sense of security, capturing it in

the shape of every piece. A reminder of the warmth we seek, a small haven carved out of clay, holding

the comfort of simpler times.