After a trip to Seagrove, North Carolina I see images of kilns, pots, studios, old and new friends dancing on the inside of my eyelids. Who knows what ultimate form these conversations, experiences, materials, dreams and influences of the last two days will take. Right now, they fill the space between memory, sleep wakefulness, and tomorrow.
I lie about to fall asleep, I glimpse unknown images
and signs drawn on the inside of my eyelids
on the wall of darkness. In the crack between wakefulness and dream
a large letter tries in vain to push itself through.
--Tomas Tranströmer, closing lines to "Nocturne" trans. Malena Mörling, Field (no. 87, Fall 2012)