I look at you, so fondly and a little mist clouds my eyes. "How can you be so lovely?", I ask you. You don't show any reaction, but I can sense that you are happy. "Is this your trick to getting more praise?", I ask, holding you in hand. You slightly move, making me feel a tingle and make a gentle sound. Ah! It sounds like music, you know? I said. You look so soft, but I know that you are subjected to a very high temperature, more than even a thousand degree celsius. I can't even think of surviving in one-nineth of it. And I know that everything in you is hard. And I understand why you have such a pleasing appearance. When one is subjected to the extremes and survives that, you can see a peculiar, yet very understandable stability. That makes it so special for such rare ones. I wanted to test you more and subjected you to the extremes again, both this way and that way. Like an invincible warrior, you took it all and did not budge at all. Amazed, I dragged you a bit carelessly, from where you are comfortable seated. Alas! You fell down and broke! Once again, a cloud of mist filled my eyes as I saw you then. "You" refers to the now broken fine white porcelain cup, that my wife gifted to me. p.s. Porcelain is made by blending clay with other substances and heating them all to a very high temperature.