I woke up from that sleep that comes right before the real sleep and found myself with an unexplainable thirst and an acute awareness of how dry my hands were. I spent eight hours earlier tonight with my hands under running water, the water achieving more in sixty seconds than I ever will. My skin is itching dry now, trying to remind me that it is still there, it is still a part of me, it to deserves to be taken care of. I drag myself away from my pillow and get a cup of water, I drink it and refill it, I drink it and refill it, I drink it and refill it. I have to water the roots, my roots, inside is thirsty and outside is wilting.
Water is unique to our planet.
I don't feel comfortable not understanding why skin dries out after washing dishes a lot, but gets soggy and expands when you're in the bath. Or why the inside of a pot lid is different than the outside, it looks like a completely different material, but it isn't. It just looks different. Is there a purpose? Is it still a purpose if nobody knows, if nobody appreciates it?