Rinse your words

"It's not just a bath. It's a ceremony. It's a visual-sensory experience. It's a surrender to temptation and the warm bask of the water, yet at the same time an expression of defiance against modernity. It's not work, but it's rewarding. It's not play, but it's fun. It's not sex, but it's sensual. It does not seek to conform, nor to justify itself. It can not be pigeonholed. It is a world unto itself. It's unique, just like you. The world of the bathtub. And the world is yours alone, a world of your own creation. For sixty minutes nothing external matters. You are a castle. The bathwater is your moat. You are an island of blissful tranquility, the tropical waters lapping against your sands, politely drawing away the sediment, bowing majestically, washing away your worries. -- And in the end when the sullen withdrawal comes the water drains away like some sort of metaphor for the transient nature of existence. As if a confirmation of the brutality of reality, it slips into the void never to be seen again, like so many childhood toys. -- But it doesn't worry you. It can not. For you know all too well that, in time, the ritual shall be repeated - hot water shall be drawn afresh like some life-giving ethereal substance, to be let go once its power has been harnessed. The cyclical harmony is confirmed, after all. It's not just a bath. It's a ceremony."

"Mate, what are you talking about, it's not a fucking ceremony it's a fucking BATH. Get in. Drain. Get out. Simple as that. Simple as fucking that."