I’m not going to begin to speculate on what the artistic intent of this was. Instead, I’m going to speculate on what would happen if a giant clam somehow struggled from the bottom of the ocean, crawled–do clams crawl?–across the great wasteland that is Texas, crawled up onto a shelf at the Salvation Army, died, and slowly melted. Because that’s what this looks like: the once of clam.
Or perhaps it’s a bowl to toss used cherry pits, and those little semi-edible stubs at the bottom of the banana. Those little inedible, unloved, but frustratingly moist bits of not-food.
Or, as long as we’re in a “not quite food” idea, maybe it’s a serving bowl for pimiento cheese. In the summer, it pools in the front, a sad, orange, expanding circle.
Other possible uses…toothbrush holder? No, that would be unpleasant bordering on obscene. You’d have to disinfect your toothbrush, and then the counter. And then sleep in another room, if you’ve like got the master bedroom and know that it’s been one door over, breathing all night. A raspy breath, a wet, soggy cough of a respiration that can only end in tears.
If there was ever a pot destined to be both sold at a thrift store, accidentally dropped on the floor and then marked down, never sold, and eventually–quietly, when the assistant manager wasn’t looking–tossed into the recycle bin for someone else to deal with, this is that pot.
Salvation Army on 183 and Metric, Austin