On the Mountain

K and I are co-creating. I doodle on ArtRage, and he writes a little story for me. It makes us happy.

***

I swing my aching legs over the top of the final boulder and collapse, exhausted but relieved. My lungs are on fire, and my head is spinning from the prolonged shortage of oxygen. I am no professional mountaineer, and this trek has been way tougher than I had imagined it would be. But still I have reached the summit, and as I stagger up to look around me I am rewarded with the most spectacular panorama I have ever witnessed. A vast ocean of rolling white clouds stretches out for miles in every direction, blanketing the earth below, broken only by the scattered mountain peaks that float across its surface like jagged, lonely islands. Above me, smoky wisps of cirrus drift lazily by, making it feel as though the ground beneath me is silently moving. I almost have to sit down again..

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Rain to Make Art

On 15th Aug, I made my first attempt at collecting rain. Water is essential to making pottery and I thought what a lovely idea it would be to use actual rainwater! What better way to seal a captured moment of time and weather into my works?

After minutes of staring at my barely filled cup on the exposed ledge of my balcony, I figured that it was simply not efficient to collect rain in this manner.

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We Do Not Have A Soul

Clay is older than man. Moulded through the ages by the wind and waters, each minute grain has seen countless lives come and go; has seen dynasties rise and fall. Has seen suffering, and joy. And hate, and love.

In the beginning,

after light was separated from darkness;

after the sky was lifted up from the sea;

after the ground sprouted seeds and fruits;

after a greater light and a lesser light were formed to govern day and night;

stars appeared.

After creatures in the sea swam and creatures in the sky took flight;

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