∂⊾⌋ ≉∌

Born from the breath of the ocean, this singular piece carries the weight of deep time—its surface, gnarled and contoured, evokes the twisted roots of ancient trees.

The spiraled form coils upward, each ridge and knot capturing the unpredictable flow of life.

Its texture, almost primal, mirrors aged bark and worn leather, yet neither—something entirely its own, carrying the faint memory of salt and tide.

At the crown, the edges fold inward, gripping the inner chamber like organic talons, revealing a space not just for use but for herbal rituals—a passage between breath and origin.

Its name remains hidden, known only to the one who holds it, an enigma etched into its form.

Created once, never replicated, it is not merely an object but something to understand—a vessel where fire awakens the primal, and the ancient breathes again.