Posted on | July 19, 2011 | No Comments
The summer is here to remind us, because we tend to forget.
It is easy to forget in the winter, wrapped in layers upon layers of insulation, hibernating beneath the frozen cover of ice and frost, but in summer it is all around us, in the rub of sweaty flesh, the moist stench of containers wafting from the street, the myriad little phlegmatic coughs and guttural croaks of stiff, lazy throats.
It explodes at the root of a clogged sink or a broken-down dishwasher, deep in the plastic drainage pipes and the undersides of shiny chrome shower fittings, adding the tiny little thrill of the occasional molten bit of scruff someone stuck under the bench to the overall symphony.
We do try to forget, don’t we?
We try to forget what a slimy, dirty, smelly affair life itself is, staring at the meadow of colorful flowers on a shaggy green carpet patrolled by diligent bees and the too remote flutter of a butterfly, ignoring the foundation that supports is all, the twisted, filthy roots tangled in the musky, muddy, worm-riddled earth where odd-shaped things with feelers and patchy fur and segmented, carapace bodies burrow and scamper.
We force ourselves to forget by stealing the scents of ripe flowers and fruits our primate brains are wired to respond to and smearing them over ourselves to mask the nature of reality and ignore its flip side. But oh, how summer makes us leak.
Summer reveals everything.
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