Sitting in my bathroom, calm, silent, naked, not only of clothes but of masks, beliefs and attitudes, being me, with me, not shower thoughts, not perfect arguments for a discussion already past or as the French would say l'esprit de l'escalier I am just me, filtering in letters what I cannot find words to say, filtering in rhymes the hugs I cannot give and letting flow in tears what I am too cowardly to express. Naked we are born and just like clothes we put on layers to fit in society; naked we have sex which is for me one of the greatest expressions of surrender and trust in human existence and I, among all this chaos that we were taught to call life, I write naked in my bathroom.