Good Grief 119

Touch
I love this cup.
We bought it from a potter ... I'm blowed if I can remember where it was exactly and yet I can visualise the place and the feel of it.
We both loved the imprint on the vessel - the thumbprint of the maker.
The point of contact between object and craftsperson.
Where matter meets matter and makes matter.
And the point where they all unite is imprinted.
A timeless reminder of a moment of contact and touch.
A timeless reminder of being together in a moment of time. Now lost.

I got up with purpose today.
A plan for the day. It seemed slightly bonkers but it was a plan and as good as any other and as good as nothing - all things being equally meaningless.
The Archers and Desert Island Discs got me there.
I looked time in the face and it cried.
Join the club, I thought.
Crying, great waves of whatever it is that wells up, I turned tail and headed straight home.
I lit the fire and then had a walk from home, feeling damned if I do, damned if I don't and not knowing where and how to meet the world  - crazy really.