in the ancient chamber of creation, where shadows dance and time holds a slight pause, notice the backdoor of the studio, not just a mere passage, but a gateway to realms unseen. with a gentle murmur, i reinitiate from the beginning the art of pottery, crafting from earth and fire as no mortal before. heed the pre-expiration of the day, for it brings a change, a hope, allowing artists to peek through the backdoor of imagination, turning the wheel with hands guided by spirits, shaping clay into vessels of dreams.