Water is sexy. (I want to dip myself in it. I want to feel its liquid form slipping over my skin. I want to feel its liquidness washing me all over, washing all over me. I want to feel the fluid mass of it washing among the parts of me: my hairs, my fingers, my toes, my eyes, my ears. I want to be near it. I want to immerse myself in it. I want to feel it cooling the heat of me. I want to go deep into it; I want to go deeper still into it. I want to feel the weight of it lighten me, ease me, release me. I want it.)
Is water sexy?
I read this somewhere in the New York Museum of Modern Art a few years ago. I really wish I could give it credit.
