“ …yeah. ”
The voice is monotone, pausing awkwardly in the middle on sentences and ending them where they shouldn't be ended.
“ I don't. Uh. Have a lot… of art. Stuff where I am… but I use. What I have. And… can remember. I don't remember a lot, either. I like to. Grind things up. I find in the forest to make bright colors. If I can. Sometimes I can… mix it with the clay I use. For pottery. ”
"Huh.. well.. You seem pretty nice. Do you have a name or something that I can call you by..? Plus, I'd like to see your pottery sometimes!"


















