In the garden, there is a large earthen jar, very tall, taller than me, very heavy. I walk around it, my hand lightly brushing the blue glazed surface. I wonder what’s inside and I haul myself over the rim. It is empty, so empty that is enticing and I want to get in, so I climb lightly into the jar. The surface there is different from the outside, unglazed and not as smooth, but I settle comfortably inside this emptiness, my back resting against one side and my feet up on the other. Then, just when I was feeling so snug, the jar becomes transparent and I can see the whole garden around me and all the trees and flowers and I smile because it feels so nice. And then I see that there is another jar, just like the first one, the one I am in, not very far away, and I dream about how it would feel to be inside the great emptiness there.