The Gift

I dreamt that I was in a museum gallery. A very large room with
hardwood floors and white walls, well lit and spacious. In the center
of the room was a long wooden table. On the wooden table was a thick
wooden block and on the wooden block was a silver mortar and pestle.
The docent told me that in the mortar was the most valuable gift the
museum had ever received. It was filled with red earth. It was a
certain type of clay that, when powdered, was the main component upon
which many paints were based. Priceless and yet simple.

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