what shows through

we had just parked under a tree outside a tavern here in cyprus. my husband opened the car door and the heat came in. i stayed in my seat for a moment, reading a message sent through my website under someone else's name.

another followed later. the names changed; the gesture was familiar.

the language was controlled, certain, claiming to speak for a gallery it had no right to represent. anger dressed as authority, concealment made to look like confidence.

clay does not conceal its maker so easily. pressure leaves an impression. a fracture changes the form. even an attempt at repair becomes part of the surface.

the messages tried to hide their maker.

what is underneath always finds a way to show through.