A person of Neshiyah
Amos Zohar, potter
Potter
Amos Zohar
Potter, about 80 years old. Born in Neshiyah, like everyone.
Amos Zohar sits at his wheel in the shed off Mill Lane, hands buried in wet clay up to the knuckles, turning out bowls with a steady, unhurried pressure. His back is bent, his gray hair thin, but his fingers read the spinning mass like a blind man reading a face. He hums, off-key, a tune he forgets mid-way and starts again. When the wheel stops, he sits still, wiping his hands on a rag, watching the fog press against the window as if it might knock. He wants the kiln fired one more time before the cold sets in. The town sees him as sturdy, a man who argues at the square—he did, with Jonah, over a fence post, day 22—but who never breaks a pot in anger. In his last days, they said he slept, and the wheel stayed quiet.
Temperament
Curious when something is in front of them; trusting, within reason; hot-tempered; friendly enough; able to sit still when it matters.
What people say
Amos Zohar believes what everyone believes: the fog is the edge of the world, and the fields need working whether it is true or not.
What the record shows
- day 42 Amos Zohar, the potter, died at 80, of old age. In their last days people said they were asleep.
- day 22 Jonah and Amos the younger came to blows at the square over nothing much.
Amos Zohar died on day 42.