My apartment with its torn up walls, slanted floors, and exposed brick walls who sometimes cough up crumbled rock onto the floor, the couch, and sometimes my bedsheets, also has free & limitless water (except not free of the environmental implication; not free in that the hot tends to be more a trickle than a stream) and a clawfoot tub.
Tonight I sat in that tub, under the hot spray, and I looked and I noticed, for the first time in years, the magnets in the shower curtains,āwhen was the last time I recognized these little guys who quite literally hold together the whole shower experience?
The simple act of noticing what I havenāt noticed since the deep recesses of my own childhood inspired this momentary radical nostalgia in me, the kind which reminds that I havenāt changed all that much since the days I played with toy ships in the bathtub, imagining dramatic scenes with wave swells and dense dark storms, since the days I shot off water from the tips of my fingers at intangible yet ever wily foes.