Gemotions

The air inside the pottery studio felt thick and rich, carrying the scent of damp clay and the faint, sweet smell of the glaze firing. Daniel, his face smudged with terracotta dust, grinned as he wiped his hands on his apron. The latest batch of sculptures had just come out of the kiln – they were perfect. He was practically bursting with pride. A notification sounded on his phone.

He picked it up, expecting a message from his gallery. Instead, it was an image. Someone had tattooed one of his favourite pieces.

"Fantastic!" he exclaimed, his voice brimming with uncontainable joy. He zoomed in on the photo, studying the precision of the lines, the way the tattoo artist had captured the essence of his work. He’d frame this photo.