I wondered what they were doing in that run down shack. It turned out ceramics were on their mind. Now I can’t help spying on them whenever I pass by. Windows are grimy, the interior is dimly lit, I rarely ever see somebody in there. I don’t like their products too much, they seem to border on farmhouse kitsch. But yesterday, the sun made a point of telling me: don’t be so judgmental. This also belongs to a world made of shiny things.