Scaling the Glaze

The wooden tabletop was only the floor. Right next to me sat a tall, white ceramic mug, its side shining smooth under the morning light. I lunged forward. Left hand cup pressed against the curved glaze—shhk, instant vacuum seal! I hoisted my torso up, pivoted my hips, and snapped my right foot against the ceramic wall. Locked in tight. Hanging at a sharp forty-five-degree dynamic tilt, I tapped the rim with my free arm. Perfect acoustics, zero wobble. This surface is high-grade terrain.