Cutting through the damp clay was surprisingly therapeutic - defacing something without a consequence felt liberating.

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The core - me as a child; my imperfect life-line scored into the clay. Post therapy (both talking and active therapy), I feel it is now an outward spiral with me heading towards the rim, lightened of my past.

How can making a simple pot create such stillness within? Not all therapy has to involve talking.

 

The physical act of molding clay was incredibly powerful; in years to come, I can look at this piece and know what it represents - no explanation is required.