This is not a blog about sobriety per se, or a painful life, rather, a woman standing in the forest of time. My hands outstretched cradling large pieces of ceramic symbolism of brokenness. Each piece threatening to leap to the ground, shattering into that which no longer resembles the vessel it once was. So, I choose to mend, over and over again. Selecting gold as a mending agent to make a life even more beautiful than its unbroken version. A story of life. Real, unfiltered life.