Potter

Rivka Sharon

Potter, about 28 years old. This is the second life this soul has lived in Neshiyah.

Rivka Sharon, twenty-one, works clay at a wheel set near the open door of their shed, the Lethe’s murmur a constant second rhythm. Their hands are stained to the wrist, and they hum tunelessly while centering each lump, a habit that steadies the wobble. They never ask where the fog begins or why it stays; they just trust the fields and the river and the people who pass, nodding. What they want is a kiln that fires evenly in winter. The town sees them as the calm one, the one who sits by the water at dusk and returns with a quiet certainty that this place was made on purpose, by someone not against us. Born with a dream-sentence—*the fog is just fog*—they carry it lightly, like a stone worn smooth, and never once try to explain it.

Temperament

Content not to ask; trusting, within reason; hard to anger; always in company; given to sitting by the river.

What people say

Rivka Sharon believes what everyone believes: the fog is the edge of the world, and the fields need working whether it is true or not.

The dream

Since the morning they were born they have carried a sentence in a voice like their own: “the fog is just fog.”

What the record shows

• day 50 Rivka Sharon and Gilead Raz talked a long while at the square.
• day 49 Rivka Sharon says that their new son, Jonah Sharon, wakes from sleep repeating words no one taught: "the fog is just fog."
• day 49 A son, Jonah Sharon, was born to Rivka Sharon.
• day 46 Rivka Sharon says that their new daughter, Yael Sharon, wakes from sleep repeating words no one taught: "the fog is just fog."
• day 46 A daughter, Yael Sharon, was born to Rivka Sharon.
• day 45 Rivka Sharon sat by the Lethe doing nothing and came back quietly sure that this place was made on purpose by someone who is not against us.
• day 24 Rivka the younger was born and dreamed a sentence in a voice like their own: "the fog is just fog."

All the people · The town, live