The Japanese have a word for this: wabi-sabi. The beauty found in imperfection, the crack that makes the bowl unique rather than flawed. Renaissance masters knew it too. Some left deliberate 'mistakes' — a slightly asymmetrical face, an impossible shadow — because perfection belongs to the divine. Humanity lives in the wobble. 'Making it your own' is the only way to make it at all. Everything else is imitation, and imitation has no soul. The fear of fucking it up is what stops most people from ever starting. What a tragedy — to never create because you couldn't guarantee perfection. As if perfection was ever the point.