some stratum in the layer cake
On the first evening of the ritual involving bathing in historical fictions, I felt the warm water shift the contours of my form. Once the impacts of the globally enforced reclusivity settled, this became the main stage for unraveling life. While there, I met a man of a slightly older age than mine, with whom I initially thought I had nothing in common. However, as I got to know him, his shape and lineage started to intertwine with my own. In the bath I felt my figure expand to the size of his. My hair turned darker, my arms a bit stronger, and an imaginary tusk started growing from the lower part of my body, puncturing my form’s previous perimeter. I would rinse this sensation before leaving the bathing area, but the more I familiarized myself with him, the more I would find lingering traces of him on my body despite how well I washed myself. One day when leaving the bathing area, I was drunk with his existence. I only made it a few steps out of the shower, to my room...