I made a little ladle holder. It’s smaller than the vessels I tend to build. It’s vaguely modest, like my presence in this vast city I call home from time to time.
In this city, everything managed to be more felt. The tender pleasure of life exists in constant alignment with the debris of living. In this city, sometimes I’m an eager participant, sometimes I’m on the outskirt, gazing in.
Yesterday, my dad came home, announcing : “Uncle has gotten fat”. A common remark in our culture, sometimes hinting the person mentioned has been unexpectedly prosperous, sometimes alluding they’re looking worse for wear. One can never tell which is which at the start of his story. He wondered if I remember.
The man in this story is not my actual uncle, though in our community we are always someone’s nieces or nephews by association, though, sometimes, the association cease at the story.
Uncle is looking for a new school for his son. He has never been a full time parent. The boy wants to learn the guitar. He’s going blind. His mother started beating him since he was two. The boy and his father just reunited, one extensive custody battle later.
Image of vessel “A little ladle holder”