25 [F4M] #NYC - Sweet warm thick chocolate lips
I gather all my breath slowly like a secret held close, a warm steady current and not too little, not most. The furnace glows orange, the molten glass waits, a patient, hot jewel at the mouth of the gates. I press my lips gently to the iron pipe's end, and coax the soft bubble to billow and bend, not forcing, not rushing, but reading its will, a language of pressure of patience, of skill. The rhythm is everything as my lips quiver with excitement. My long, flowing exhales. The glass blooms like sunrise, like petals, like sails. Too hard and it shatters; too soft and it dies - I've learned it through failure, through sweat, and surprise while still blowing. I am average size and medium weight and 160 pounds I turn it and tend it and make sure I milk it. I warm it with care, I shape something beautiful out of hot air. I've burned my hands trying, I've started again perfection's a practice.