Elderly Potter Centering Clay in Mexican Cafe

Pale dawn light spills across the tiled floor of a Santa Maria la Ribera cafe, illuminating an elderly potter seated at a wooden table. Their hands press into a spinning mound of gray clay, fingers stained with earth. Giant mushrooms, their caps wide as umbrellas, sprout from the floorboards around the table legs, their gills catching the soft morning glow. The dry season air hangs still, casting long, quiet shadows against the white walls. Wooden chairs and ceramic mugs sit nearby, dwarfed by the fungal growth. One shadow from a mushroom cap stretches across the potter's apron, at the base of the impossible scale in the concrete reality of the room.