Hard fired porcelain, ink on paper.

4 x 2.3 inches

Hand written text 

‘Memories of the outside world will never have the same tonality as those of home and, by recalling these memories, we add to our store of dreams; we are never real historians, but always near poets, and our emotion is perhaps nothing but an expression of a poetry that was lost.’

Gaston Bachelard, The Poetics of Space.