in the chaos of battle, hunkered down behind shattered walls, i find a moment of solace thinking about the privileged art of glassblowing. it's like preparing for prearrival; we meticulously cut out flaws, reset our focus amidst the cacophony, and engage in a silent conversation with the molten glass. this art, much like our fight, demands precision, patience, and a privileged understanding of the fragile balance between force and finesse.