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FROM THE PIPE WORKS Stolen clay sliced from the block with wire, like ripe cheese, lumpen grey yet soft as silk, despite the grit--this was your gift. To us it was a child's toy lugged home in a hessian sack, moulded into rows of pallid, earthen men, round eyed, arms wide, drying in the sun. For you it was the unyielding stuff of labour, slime-slurried as you hefted, shaped and finished, fingers always wet, numb in ...