I am the grit in the gears, the missing bolt, I am the poker of sticks into spokes. I like to know how things work, but sometimes when I take them apart and rebuild them, I have a few pieces left over. I am a man, so I tend to leave reading the instructions until after it goes wrong. And like all men I have a comprehensive mental map of the world and never need to ask directions. I never get lost, only sometimes I'm late, or end up in the wrong place entirely. It's what we do.
Friday, 25 September 2009
Yerba Mater.
From Poland.
This one is so peaceful.
However, Yerba Mater also play bhangra inspired music, with throatsinging overtones not dissimilar to those of Tuva.
After a week of being attacked by some nasty virus (not the computer kind, the one that makes you cough, sweat, feel as if your head's stuffed with porridge, and so on), I'm promising myself clay time tomorrow.
Yes bring on the clay time, have been waiting for more pics of pots fresh from oooop north.
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