The Unpolished Silver Filigree

Dear Delyara, I tried to work on a delicate Iranian traditional motif tonight, attempting to fuse two pieces of fine silver wire under the torch, but my timing was entirely off and the heat melted the entire design into an ugly, shapeless lump of slag. I sat there in the dark after turning off the gas, the smell of burnt flux hanging in the room, feeling an immense, crushing wave of creative failure. The voice in my head was vicious—telling me that my hands have gone hard, that my eye has lost its precision, and that I am completely wasting my time trying to be an artist when the world has already categorized me as a watchman.