amora
Love as form, patience as texture.
Amora holds contradiction like a secret —
tender blooms rooted in something ancient and unyielding.
The vessel, hand-shaped from earth and imperfection, carries quiet strength beneath its weathered skin. Each line, each pore, records touch — proof that even what appears solid can nurture something soft.
In Amora, love isn’t delicate; it endures. It grows from weight, not despite it.
