瓷，自古以来便是中国的象征。几千年前，伴着丝绸之路的驼声铃铃，瓷传入欧洲。从此世界知晓了这个遥远的东方古国。可随着日新月异的发展，瓷的痕迹逐渐淡去。
Porcelain has been a symbol of China since ancient times. Thousands of years ago, porcelain was introduced to Europe with the sound of camel bells along the Silk Road. From then on, the world became aware of this distant ancient Eastern country. With the rapid development, the traces of porcelain gradually fade away.
我踏上景德镇，追寻瓷的过往。
I set foot in Jingdezhen, pursuing the past of porcelain.
在白墙灰瓦间，瓷的身影活跃起来。茶几上摆着瓷，盛着清澄的茶水，房梁上挂着一串风铃便是瓷做的。一阵清风拂过，铃铃作响，我的脚步顿在一家不起眼的小店前。向里望去，架子上一排排瓷反射着温和的灯光，如夏日的萤火虫般吸引着人们，我不由自主地跨过门槛向瓷走去。站在架子下仰头观望，瓷倒映在眼中，润如玉，白如雪。突然，旁边增添了一道呼吸声，缓慢而沉稳，我侧头，映入眼帘的是一位老瓷匠，他微微一笑，提出可以带我参观制瓷过程，我点点头。
Amidst the white walls and gray tiles, the figures of porcelain come alive. There is porcelain on the coffee table, holding clear tea, and a string of wind chimes hanging on the beam of the house, which is made of porcelain. A gentle breeze swept by, bells rang, and my footsteps stopped in front of an inconspicuous small shop. Looking inside, rows of porcelain on the shelf reflected gentle lights, attracting people like fireflies in summer. I couldn't help but step over the threshold and walk towards the porcelain. Standing under the shelf and looking up, the porcelain reflected in my eyes, moist as jade and white as snow. Suddenly, there was a slow and steady breathing beside me. I turned my head and saw an old porcelain craftsman in front of me. He smiled slightly and offered to take me on a tour of the porcelain making process. I nodded.
门被轻轻推开，泥土味扑面而来，屋内面积不大，却摆放整齐。几名匠人并未抬头，仍在低头和泥、拉坯，我的目光被一双手吸引，这双沾满泥土，饱经风霜的手，此时却娴熟的拢住一块泥巴，随着车盘开始旋转，他将陶泥一点点立直。只见大拇指先在中间点出一个坑，然后越发深入向外扩展。另一只手，拢住陶泥外部为表面打平。陶泥一点点成型，内部形成了拳头大小的中空，大拇指握住瓶口，使上方收拢。印象中，那双手上下翻飞，每当我以为做成时，又重复这个步骤。老匠人站在我身旁，看的比我更加投入。过了一会儿，他缓缓开口：”拉坯是千锤百炼的过程，不然在入窑时会很容易开裂，把一整颗心都投进去才能制成一件好瓷！”他的话语消散在机器的嗡嗡声中，却久久回荡在我的脑海中。远处似有阵阵驼铃，神秘而悠扬。
The door was gently pushed open, and the smell of soil came to my face. The room was not large, but it was neatly placed. Several craftsmen did not look up, still lowering their heads to mix mud and clay. My gaze was drawn to a pair of hands, which were covered in mud and weathered by the wind. At this moment, they skillfully grasped a piece of mud, and as the cart began to rotate, they slowly straightened the clay bit by bit. I saw my thumb first point a hole in the middle, and then expand further and further outward. With the other hand, hold onto the outside of the clay to level the surface. The clay gradually formed, creating a fist sized hollow inside. The thumb gripped the bottle mouth, causing it to retract upwards. In my impression, those hands flipped up and down, and every time I thought it was done, I repeated this step. The old craftsman stood beside me, looking more engaged than me. After a while, he spoke slowly and said, "Pulling is a process of a thousand hammers and hundreds of trials, otherwise it would be easy to crack when entering the kiln. Only by putting the whole heart into it can a good piece of porcelain be made! ”His words dissipated in the buzzing of the machine, but lingered in my mind for a long time. In the distance, there seem to be waves of camel bells, mysterious and melodious.
走出店门，已是夕阳西下。回头望去，这爿小店在余晖的照耀中散发着淡淡金光，里面的瓷是那么耀眼。那一刻，我知道，原来传承从未停止。
Stepping out of the store, it was already sunset. Looking back, this small shop emitted a faint golden light in the afterglow, and the porcelain inside was so dazzling. At that moment, I knew that the inheritance had never stopped.