The longer the pause, the harder it is to remember what came before. It lengthens, deepens and goes from dramatic to outright traumatic. It becomes an abyss that swallows every word, each though and drowns it in doubt.
The prompt asked you to explore scars in relation to a city. While I steered away from actual city metaphors, I used my city as inspiration or a reflection. It’s also the home of the Imperfect Project, a way in which I came to accept my scars.
Most often when I take a bath it is for sanitary reasons, bordered by time constraints, and against the atonal melody of children. There are times however, times when I retreat into my tiled tomb, lock the door and run a decadent bath filled with fragrant bubbles. I lie there in Elizabeth Taylor repose with a glass of wine and a book until the water cools and I emerge like Venus from the waves refreshed.