A ceramic cemetery in the swamp
After seven years in the same house, the longest I have abided in one abode in my adult life, the urge to clean out the corners hit last week.
If you don't move for a while, things start to accumulate.
Things like trinkets. Doo-dads. Gadgets. Cords. Books. Boxes.
Ceramics never die. As an enduring symbol of the 1970s, ceramics have outlasted polyester suits.
What are ceramics, those born since 1980 might ask?
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