Porcelain dreams
rise
from stillness.

Hands shape quiet
into form-
a dancer mid-turn,
a child reaching,
a dove paused
between sky and landing.

They do not speak,
these figures,
yet their silence
is tender
and precise.

Glaze catches
a breath of light,
as if memory
had weight
but no sound.

Nothing rushed,
nothing forced-
only the patience
of beauty
becoming itself.

Lladró does not craft statues-
it listens
until emotion
hardens
into grace.