Jenny George Pottery

I remember the moment during the drive to school, the awkward silence in the conversation, Me with my mom voice drowning out the radio...

I remember being young and taping material to my fake Barbies, making dresses out of calico scraps, old lace, and Scotch tape. Sometimes...

I can slip my hands over the lump of your wet clay, smile, and even look away from the wheel— And it’s centered, smooth, perfected. But...