You arrive at two. Store your phone. Matcha is poured. We sit together for a few minutes before any clay is touched — brief on what these four hours are for, what we're going to do, and how. Then your hands meet the clay.
Four hours to make something wrong, useless, and delightful. Adults almost never get to make useless things. This is what rest looks like — the kind your phone can't give you. Your hands do something; your mind, finally, gets to wander. You're not making a gift, not making something to display. Make the strangest small vessel your hands want to make.
How the afternoon ends is a small surprise we'd rather you arrive at. You'll walk out at six with something on a card you didn't expect to write.
Your vessel is fired this week. It comes back to you in late July, when we gather again briefly to receive what was made.
Today is half of it. The other half is in six weeks.
The clay shifts in the kiln. The thing you remember making may look subtly different in your hands again. The name you wrote in June is on a card that comes with it.
A Sunday afternoon can reliably move your state on the day. Durable change is the work of weeks, not hours.
We've designed for what an afternoon can do, and we've designed the bridge home. We don't promise what we cannot deliver.
If this sounds like your Sunday, send us a paragraph in your own words. We'll write back the same day.
Send a notejo@softreset.sg