Be Water, My Friend
‘You must be shapeless, formless, like water...
Water can drip and it can be crash. Become water my friend.”
Water cannot be contained, it seeks every gap, every opportunity to flee into the air, to seep into the depths. It can only be separated momentarily before it is reunited in the clouds and converged in a storm.
Within the space of the bathhouse national borders dissolve like mist, water pumped from the North and South converge in a crash of water fall, identities and labels are cleansed and we stand bare, face to face as ones we have loved and missed.
And so the bathers and the waters, in a spontaneous uncontainable duet, unwinding through every nook and cranny, rediscover a temporary paradise that for once shall be alien to.