The tip of your finger goes in, then you retract it almost immediately. Shivering with delight you stare at this small pond with a seemingly endless end with awe and curiosity. The warmness of the water is strikingly inviting, the waves write to you in a cursive-like style as they dance away, telling you to join them. But you are careful not to jump in —yet, at least — for this water wants you to drown.
Once again, you slowly stick in your finger, and then another, dragging them around carefully in circular motions, completely captivated by its feel. The water latches on to your skin with its tenacious grip, and the rest of your body begins to growl with envy as it yearns to also be touched by the enticing water.
Another finger and another! The waters waves jump aggressively, writing a letter of intense passion now, it reads:
Touch!
Me!
More!
You throw off your shoes and throw yourself in, not caring of what the water will do to your apparel. The viscid water welcomes you with a hot embrace, and as you go deeper, a thicker goo now has you stuck, it wants to preserve you in its bowels.
Stupefied by this warm depth that increasingly becomes greater and greater, you are just fine with drowning.
-Hanna Guzman (2021)
