Clusters of One Collection
A Tale of Drift and Quiet Companionship
Sidon and Taido were born at the edge of the sea, in the old port city of Sidon on the coast of Lebanon — a place known for glassmaking, fishing, and the steady rhythm of hard work. Though ten years apart in age, the two became inseparable. Sidon, the elder, carried the seriousness of someone who had worked with his hands since childhood. His bones remembered labour, routine, and the heat of the glass kilns.
Taido was different: gentle, warm, beloved by all who knew him. He moved with a quiet strength, like a small sun that softened anything around it. While Sidon felt shaped by duty, Taido radiated an effortless brightness. Together they balanced one another — duty and warmth, labour and light.
Life in the harbour was demanding. Sidon spent long days carrying glass beads and molten shards for the makers, while Taido stayed home to tend to his family until loss reshaped his world. After Taido’s grandmother died, the two friends set out together on a small trading boat bound for nearby ports, carrying fish, glass, and simple wares.
But the sea had other plans.
A sudden wave cast their vessel off course, crashing it onto a rugged stretch of shoreline.
There, on unfamiliar ground, they gathered themselves before crossing paths with a nomadic caravan of traders and musicians moving slowly inland.
Shaken but unhurt, Sidon and Taido found themselves in unfamiliar terrain. Before long, they crossed paths with a nomadic caravan of traders and musicians moving slowly inland. Welcomed into the caravan’s warmth and rhythm, they joined the group as it travelled eastward toward Persia.
The journey was lively, filled with colour and movement. Taido thrived in this new environment; Sidon, though disoriented, found comfort in his friend’s steady presence.
One evening, during the packing of goods, the two friends were accidentally rolled into the soft layers of a Persian rug — an embrace of fabric and fate. The rug was later traded, carried across mountains and deserts, and finally loaded onto a ship bound for the far side of the world.
The long ocean crossing brought them to the West Coast of Canada, where the rug was unpacked and Sidon and Tido tumbled out, softened by the long journey yet still nestled in the companionship that had carried them across continents.
That is where I found them — two small nomads who had travelled further than any creature their size should reasonably do. Weathered, tender, still devoted to one another. I brought them into the world again through clay, glass, gesture, and breath, honouring the story already living inside them.
Sidon and Taido remain inseparable, carrying the spirit of their long drift:
quiet strength, warmth, duty, sunlight — and the comfort of a companion who turns every strange place into a small home.
