The bathhouse

Taking a bath should be a very happy thing. Why else would so many people like to sing at the top of their lungs in the bath? --Beginning with one person humming, and then another person singing out. And so one by one, eventually a chorus began. Later, the men's bathhouse next door also began to respond enthusiastically. A different atmosphere of joy in the crashing water drums and drums of trembling, trembling, trembling, the amplitude is getting bigger and bigger, the cycle is getting shorter and shorter ...... such joy does not know how to end. Even if it has ended, afterwards can not remember how it ended at that time.

There are times when only one person is singing from the beginning to the end, and only one song from the beginning to the end, and only the last two lines of the climactic part of the song. Repeat, repeat, repeat, like the tip of a knife scraping on glass ...... Fortunately, this "repetition" is at most as long as a shower, if so repeated all day, it will make the listener hallucinate. And fortunately this is only in the bathhouse, the bathhouse subtle atmosphere seems to accommodate all nervous behavior.

The echoes are always loud. The water flows outside the body, and after a long time, it seems to flow inside the body. It's hot. The water vapor is thick ...... I wonder what kind of a body loving body the person singing ...... sings is always indistinguishable from the content of that lyric, but the vocal tone is sharp and bright - sharp and bright and difficult to distinguish the content, that is really a wonderful feeling.

More often than not, everyone was unintentionally and leisurely humming an out-of-tune tune. People who knew each other casually chatted about endless topics that kept bifurcating and going further and further away, almost as if they were about to get lost in their own vast and complex labyrinth of branches - they floated in shadows in the bath, thick and thin, moving en masse toward the exhaust fan and disappearing into the dry, cool air outside.

The singing is actually secondary. The man who sang did not realize he was singing. The body was naked, the demeanor was simple, and additional thoughts were suspended. Deft hands kept rubbing the bath towel, and the long washed hair was tied in a ball at the top of the head and fell crookedly on the forehead. The complexion is watery and bright, the body shapes staggered. The boys squealed every now and then, running around with their penises flung; the girls were deeply surprised at why they didn't have penises.

Housewives carried buckets and basins and scrubbers and adjusted the taps one by one. Then they finally found a faucet with more water flowing, and set up their positions, buried in soap and foam, naked and struggling to deal with the huge pile of dirty bedspreads, curtains and covers.

The young mothers also brought in bath tubs, which were also filled with plastic toys. Mothers were rubbing the foam from their hair while sternly scolding their children not to chew the plastic duck and duck and not to drink the bath water.

Some people are trying to brush their teeth, their mouths full of foam and shaking all over. I don't know how far I have to brush before I'm done. Not only the teeth, but probably even the tonsils were not spared.

The owner and the customer were arguing outside and almost on the verge of getting into a fight.

Inside, a new chorus began.

Suddenly another small child cried out in alarm, shouting around for his mother. When he found his mother, she slapped him with a big ear croak.

The bathhouse is always hot and steamy. When there were many people, it was stuffy and crowded, and three people had to share a faucet. Between people, there is the darkest abyss between the slightest contact. From time to time, a stranger crowded over and offered to help me rub my back. After I declined, she would immediately ask me to rub her back.

There was no stall between the faucet and the tap, so the bathers were standing face to face, looking at each other with lazy eyes midway. The water was very large and rushed in one stream. The large pool in the middle of the bath was watery, and from time to time there was the sound of a child falling in it, but the sharp cries had to brew for three seconds before they burst out.

Outside, the four walls and ceiling of the locker room were dangling with droplets of water, falling in cold, sluggish drops. The lights are still and dim. The dressed people's limbs are white and their faces are blurred. But someone carrying plates and plates of steaming stir-fry soup and rice walked straight through the dressing room, pulled out a key and opened the small door at the end and flashed in. When she came out again, she had changed her clothes and was carrying an umbrella and a small bag. She locked the door behind her and disappeared through the locker room into another door. Why are there so many doors in this dressing room?

There were aging bodies standing with their backs to me, their bodies moist and their petticoats soaked to transparency in many places. She had no way to dry her body, she was too fat to turn her arms behind her back and lift them higher. She called me in a low voice: "Child, child ......" and added: "Pull a little ......" She is a Ha The old man. I walked over and saw her petticoat twisted into a rope around her back. I reached out to tug and felt the tremendous friction between my skin and petticoat. The water was stubborn. I helped tug for a while before it smoothed out. Then I walked away in silence, and she didn't thank me. She was very, very old. Old people shouldn't be out in the shower alone. There was an ominous feeling in the locker room.

Earlier, I remember her pulling down the sluice gate and standing right under the faucet to start putting on her petticoat, then passing me and holding my arm as she carefully walked over the edge of the sink. Then past the next person, holding that person slowly again. Then the next one. The water drizzled on her petticoat piece by piece, and she looked relaxed. The lace of her petticoat glistened in the steaming water.

There was another girl who was just beginning to develop, her waterlogged skin smooth and dark, her body long and soft, every rise and fall, the only ripple that wouldn't stop when the water came to a standstill. The moment of breath before the bird takes off. Bird feathers clean, wings slightly open ...... and the natural formation of clouds in the crystal - looking through this crystal to the blue sky, the clouds rotate slightly. And the most beautiful thing is in that rotation right in the middle of the stationary, slender axis.

She was standing in the water with a splash. I saw with my own eyes that the water splashed away not by touching her body, but by touching the light emanating from her.

Bathing in the bathhouse, my ordinary body, ordinary limbs, will soon be wrapped in heavy clothes, ordinary walk in the dusk. This ordinary life, such peace. I am no longer young, but far from old. I am growing millions of hairs, a few wounds are healing, my arthritic knees are creaking, and my cervical spine is gently pressing against a place that I can only imagine. The disease was sleeping peacefully deep in the body, breathing evenly, while youth was watching over it day and night with a lamp. She wanted to wake him up, but held back and held back, tears flowing long ...... These are carefully wrapped by my body. My body stood in the rapids under the faucet. Many times I found that I was the only one left in the bathhouse at the end. It was empty, cold, and the large pool in the center of the bathhouse was calm and bright.

When I went to the bath, I would always forget to bring one thing with me. This would often be a comb, so when I came out of the bath, my hair was always tangled.

Twice I forgot to bring a towel, so I had to stand in the locker room to dry it slowly.

If I forgot my slippers, I would find them as soon as I entered the locker room, and then I would rush home to get them. When I came back with the slippers, the forgetful owner would always ask me to pay again.

When I forget my soap, I use shampoo instead. When I forget shampoo, I wash my hair with soap instead. But several times, I forgot both soap and shampoo.

Later, I used a slip of paper to write down everything I needed to bring in detail. The next time I went out, I counted the items on the slip of paper, so that I could go out without any problems. However, when I arrived at the place, I realized that I still forgot to bring something, and it was the most important ...... money, two dollars, two dollars for a shower ......

So I added the "money" item to the note.

But when the next time, I forgot to read the note before going out ......

The next time, I simply couldn't even find the note.

Going to the bathhouse and bringing the necessary supplies - this is a very simple and easy thing to do. And I never do it well. As I turn sideways and walk around the sink once again toward one of the faucets I use regularly, I desperately think: What did I forget this time? What had disappeared from consciousness this time? What else had I not felt, not touched? I sidled up and marched through the crowded forest, with its deep grass, thick bushes and trees. I spotted a six-legged spider ...... with a bright red plastic button-like organ on its back, crouching quietly on a spider web covered with bright green letters. At that moment someone from behind me quietly away, forever away ...... and before that, I have been in this forest alone through the millennia, no exit, no one met.