Prose piece- The bath Copyright Robert Fullarton 2014

Prose piece- The bath
Copyright Robert Fullarton 2014

When winter comes, I enjoy the therapeutic habits of bathing my tired and weary body in the bath. I gaze at the frosted glass and contrast it with the fine bellows of vapour and steam that rise from my bath like smoke signals in the mist of the condensation. Lavender oils are a bodily tonic, a wet facecloth placed at my brow and a cup of camomile at my side are a spiritual tonic.

Outside in the suburban desert there are dramas being lived out, lives being raised up and lowered, promotions and doleful news reports circulating throughout the populous but the cold of callous winter drags on against the forgetting season of forgetfulness.