The Forty-Seventh Clay
The clay sat on the windowsill in the Brooklyn apartment and Thomas Grey taught it to exist. This was not a metaphor. Thomas, retired professor of philosophy from Brooklyn College, spent his mornings in the small room that had once been a nursery and was now a studio, sitting at a wooden table with a lump of grey river clay and shaping it with hands that had grown shaky with age and loneliness...
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