She shed her plain white robe, her calves moving softly with each unhurried step, their soft curves revealing themselves as she came to stand beside the bathtub — such a moment of exhilaration for her, and yet to name a feeling with a word only left her lost. Should it not, instead, simply be felt?
She turned the tap’s handle, and a hazy mist — marvellous — began to drift through the air of the bathroom; warm spring water — delight — came flowing down, and into it she let fall a little of the bright-coloured draught — anticipation, daring, abandon, and pride.
Her toes, delicate and quick to feel, stirred the water into motion, and thread by thread her thoughts seeped into the very marrow of her — she had promised herself no more of these worn-out words. She let herself sink, body and mind, entirely into that fullness, imagining with a heated, wandering mind, while time rippled outward with the waves, and she longed to hurry, to hurry on…
