Clay comes in various forms. Usable and unusable. If usable then for moulding...
I desire to blunge!
To blunge this clay...
To roll, flatten, kneed it between the fingers, and in the strong palms...
To fill it with my heat. And my material.
Material that matures, ripens, boils over under the gaze of her playfully enraging at times so timidly virgin eyes.
This woman is subject to me as well as to ...moulding...
I know it is not a milk jug that I am going to fashion from this clay.
I am making a vow to work with this clay for good!
In any case, till there exist such women in the world.
Women beside whom I – a man – am able to realize myself...