jean kirstein making pottery brings me inner peace.
imagining he starts it after the war is over, feeling a little lost and trying to piece himself together. art has always been the glue that kept his soul together, but he’s tired of drawing the faces of those who are no longer with him.
he just needs something to do with his hands, something that will clear the thoughts out of his head and give him something new to breathe life into.
so one day he picks it up and instantly falls in love. deft fingers molding the clay, a piece of his soul seeping into each one as he loses himself in it. his heart thrumming with newfound passion as he makes the pottery for himself and his loved ones, proudly presenting it to them as soon as they’re finished.
eventually he finds old pieces of pottery, ones that were broken from the rumbling and his heart just can’t take the thought of tossing it. so he mends it, using gold or silver to stitch it back together as he would his own wounds — giving it a fair second chance at life, just like the one he had been granted.
desperately holding onto the fact that while his hands have done unspeakable things, they now hold the power to bring beauty back into the world. and it becomes his greatest salvation.
