The vase was an embodiment of humble beauty, rustic in an unfinished appeal. It was as if the clay was born of sunlight and wanted no more than to stay as the earth it came from. To the touch it was as comforting as any fisherman's calloused hands. It was just a vase, but it brought a feeling of realness to the room.
The vase has the undulations of natural vines, as if it grew from the earthen hued table in search of the light. The glaze is so many hues of blue, the colour that brings so much resonance with my soul. I guess I'll always be a lover of the ocean, of the sky and of the Iris with it's blaze of yellow. I touch the vase to feel a welcome coolness, a removal of some of my fire that brings a sense of rest and ease. It is a work of art, truly, to be so beautiful and yet have its purpose to allow the flowers to be the stars of this stage.
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