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The real worth of the flowerpot was never about rarity or resale. It was about continuity. The way an ordinary object can absorb meaning simply by being present long enough. It carried the marks of use — scratches, stains, imperfections — that told a story no appraisal ever could.
In a world that often chases the new and the pristine, the humble flowerpot offers a quiet reminder: heirlooms don’t always come wrapped in velvet or stored behind glass. Sometimes, they’re already with us, holding life, waiting to be noticed.
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