You can barely see the cracks now.
She quietly admired the teapot, it took almost half an hour to tape all the pieces back together.
“Why even bother taping it back? It wasn’t even expensive,” he scoffed, eyeing the crevices wearily, “it wasted 30 minutes of your life, but it still looks brokened.”
She ignored him as he made his snide remarks about the teapot, it was her dream, it was her own effort that made this teapot more than it was.
“I want to take it to the Kintsugi,” she whispered.
Wabi-sabi, the art and philosophy behind the Japanese Kintsugi. The act of repairing pottery with gold and lacquered it so it looks beautiful despite its flaws, refining the details and transcending it into something more than it was.
The golden-rimmed teapot never was the same as the other ones.
There is a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.
“Will you ever learn to appreciate the scars?” she asked.
He looked at her, her gaze never left the teapot.