📖 故事文本
Sometimes I think about how our lives are like a lump of clay on a wheel. You start with something raw and cool in your hands, heavy with possibility, and every decision is a fingertip—gentle or forceful—that shapes and reshapes the form. There are moments when the wheel spins too fast and you panic, your fingers dig in and a chunk tears away; other times you breathe, steady the rhythm, and the piece begins to hold its promise. Clay remembers pressure and warmth; it keeps the fingerprints of every person who's touched it. When it cracks, it's not the end—it’s a place where light can enter, or where you mend it and make a seam that tells a story. I love that. We are malleable, repairable, always learning the balance between pressure and patience. So next time you feel misshapen, imagine softening your hands and turning the wheel a little slower.