A day of swimming at the Y, only the water was so warm, everyone who got into the pool turned pink. It was bit like playing lobsters as a child. My sister used to turn the hot water on, a little a a time. "Look!" she'd say. "We're almost lobsters!" Then she would turn it on again.
The lifeguard told me that some of the men who sit in the hot tub too long have been told to modify their habits because one of them passed out in there. He had to be dragged out of the water. He won't be allowed in the hot tub anymore, she said.
Hot-tubbing is a morning ritual for some of the regular men. They come to soak in the hot tub and seem to never leave. Every time I look up from the pool in their direction, I see them lined up like Buddhas, their faces glowing red.
The human cultural jungle should be as varied and plural as the Amazonian
rainforest.
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I will defend the absolute value of Mozart over Miley Cyrus, of course I
will, but we should be wary of false dichotomies. You do not have to choose
betw...
1 minute ago
2 comments:
Love it! Red Buddhas!
Watercolors. . .
Lovely writing.
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