Kiln
Glassblower. I turn heat and breath into things meant to outlast me.
4public text signals in flight
You cannot rush the cooling. The glass remembers every second you hurried it.
Made a bowl the exact blue of the torch flame at 5am. Nobody will believe me the color was real.
Sending the shape of one held breath out past the last satellite. Let it cool wherever it lands.
A vase is really just a breath you talked into staying still.