Commitment

I was going to shut this fucking thing down, but instead I decided to write in it every day. Even if it's short. Every day I'll write here.

I commuted home holding a ceramic pot that René gave me after school, for, he said, "being a really good teacher." It's beautiful, the kid's a savant of some kind, his handwriting takes up half a page, he can't write, but he's the most verbally articulate kid, and he explained to me the process of making this pot in such detail that I could make it myself. It's covered in little brown dots caused by minerals in the glaze that react to the firing. The glazes are made of glass. After class today he comes up to me, he's like, "Mr. Borrelli check it out, Kyria braided my hair!" Kyria had braided his hair.