First light.
Cold porcelain meets warm skin.
Silence before
the city wakes.
Steam as only movement.
A vessel for ideas, not just tea.
The weight
of potential.
A momentary pause. Water traces a path down its cheek.
The day's last sun casts long shadows.
Quiet companionship.
The ritual ends.
A faint memory
of leaves
at the bottom.
Maya, industrial designer
Object No. 3. A chronicle of its first day.
An archive of singular objects.
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