it was around middle school time that my sexual proclivities took a turn toward the bizarre. i distinctly remember fashioning an anatomically perfect vagina out of clay and impregnating it daily with my tumescent winkle. my adventure only lasted a week though, as the maximum moisture content of clay before it disintegrates into its constituent elements cannot exceed twenty parts per million grains, assuming of course that your clay is earthenware clay, such as this was. i found out a few years later that it was in fact nothing like the real thing nor any substitute for the loving caress of a good woman, but i still get butterflies when i draw near a vase.

i do think there's a conceptual pot idea in there somewhere though.