Transcript:

In the twilight of my years, I reflect back on a life that began not as a person, but as a creation of clay and whimsy in the hands of Mademoiselle Potière, a potter with a fondness for the undefined. She was known for her exquisite vases and intricate plates, but on one peculiar afternoon, she shaped something different—a form without name or clear purpose, a mere 'thing' left to harden on the windowsill under the soft glow of the setting sun.

As the moonlight streamed through the loft’s old windows that night, something miraculous unfolded. The clay stirred, morphed, and in its place, there stood a woman, born not from womb but from earth and art. I was that woman, and she named me Chose, for I was nothing particular, just a 'chose'—a thing.

For decades, I wandered in search of a deeper identity, a quest that led me through countless towns and countless interactions. Each place I visited, I saw myself in the unnamed and unnoticed—the worn bench by the bus stop, the faded painting in a crowded café, the lost glove on a winter's street. These things, like me, existed quietly on the fringes of significance.

Years wove their relentless dance, and with them, I grew into my formlessness. I learned that lacking a specific label did not make me less but allowed me to be a canvas for others' emotions and needs. A child might see me as a guardian; a grieving widow, a silent companion in solitude. In each role, I found purpose and a peculiar sort of belonging.

It was in the shade of an ancient oak, whose roots delved deep into the earth as if searching for their own beginning, that I finally understood my own nature. My strength lay in my ambiguity, in being perpetually open to interpretation and redefinition. I mused on this, an old woman by the measure of years yet ageless in spirit, and smiled at the freedom it entailed.

In that moment of realization, my form began to change, my body lightening, hair lengthening into feathers. With a heart full of joy, I took flight as a swallow, soaring into the dusk sky, embodying the true essence of Mademoiselle Chose—I could be anything I wished, bound only by the reaches of imagination.

And so my story was told, listened to by the very hands that had shaped me. Mademoiselle Potière, moved by my tale, resolved to return to her studio under the stars. There, amidst the quiet whispers of her other creations, she decided to mold another undefined 'thing'. With a thoughtful smile, she shaped the clay, inspired by the idea that from such undefined forms, boundless possibilities could emerge. Her creations, like me, would remind the world of the beauty and power in the unnamed and unformed, where every 'chose' is not just a thing, but a potential for endless transformation.

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