Diary and notes from a secret ceramics studio.
Deeply cryptic, you cut your daughter's hair -badly, and she cried? Please explain?
One of my studio mate's has dragged me (willingly) into writing DaDa poetry for upcoming projects. It's turned out to be a bunch of fun to churn out these little cryptic works. This one has several meanings, one is private, but the general interpretation is a metaphor for my personal reservation regarding a basic premise of Christianity. That salvation is reserved for humanity alone,(although when pressed I'd have to admit that a flower is probably without sin).
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