The studio is so silent this morning my breath feels loud. I've been up since 5, which is normal for me now. Ceramics demands its own rhythm, and sex work has taught me that time is never just linear. It curves and pools and sometimes stands completely still.
I was working on a set of mugs yesterday. Pale blue glaze, thin walls. The kind of vessel that feels delicate but can hold so much weight. A lot like how I think about my own work, really. Fragile looking from the outside but sturdy where it matters.
Clients sometimes ask about the relationship between my ceramic work and escorting. As if they're separate things. They aren't. Both require patience. Both are about understanding pressure, touch, the subtle negotiations of human connection. Both involve letting something form that wasn't there before.
The kiln is warming up. Steam from my coffee making little condensation patterns on the window. Another day beginning, soft and undefined.