Theres nothing like a cold bath on a hot day, the feeling of life splashing back into your body. And theres nothing like Juniper, sunlit as she wanders through her memories of Kashmiri men and naked sound healing. Wandering and speaking until theres nothing to express except moans, nothing left to hear but the now gentle, now frantic movement of cool water, the lilt of her gasps and sighs, the rocking of her body in the sacred liquid space of her perfect afternoon.
