Pools

A woman is dodging puddles as if stepping into one wouldn’t mean simply dirtying her pristine black leather boots and khaki trench coat, but rather, would mean falling into another world. Her heel pierces through the surface and is plunged deep down into sensuous saunas. Shoes melt off tired feet and her frigid skin is made luminous by hot springs filled with steaming bodies. Bodies outlined by backlit smoke that curls around them like quiet tendrils suspended in time. The silent forms that pull like sirens when one peeks underneath shallow mirrors and steps beyond vapid fears of dirty water on slick skinned boots. Boots ignorant to the leaf studded pools gathering on pavements, entire oceans emptying endlessly, waiting to be found.

 

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