18 March 2006


The Sort of Thing Claypot Dreamstance Often Says to Pass the Time

Sand makes a noise: I don’t mean the sliding shimmering rush of thousands of grains slipping through your hands in a shower of streaming whispers. I’m talking about booming dunes thumping across the landscape. I’m telling you that if you put your shoe down on sand with a twisting footprint it will squeak under your foot. Drag a stick through a wet beach of the stuff and you will hear the ocean. Put an hour glass next to your ear and hold your breath long enough to catch the sound of time slipping almost silently into a softly hissing pyramid.


Evocative. I like this Claypot voice.
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