It started out well, a little heat, then more, til I started to explore, the avenue of pain I was able to endure as my crafter seemed oblivious and demure. He turned up the flame to shape the glass and I was melting into a shape that might not pass. He was trying to make a face or mask of sorts, but expanded to a horrid image full of distort. The craft fair people were conservative at best. They passed on my crafter’s wares with a jest. “Old Blake really blew it this time.” A pun not worth a dime.
The Bag Lady 
You must be logged in to post a comment.