Standing quietly on a cold winter morning blue sky
Somethings that are better unsaid, better un-photographed, better savored wholly,
That I vowed I would remember,
But have I failed to remember.
Like the tear drops of a yawn in a fluffy afternoon bath of yellow sunflower sunlight
They slipped through my tired finger tips, leaving minuscule slips of paper cuts.
Yes, I may have forgotten. Yes, I am growing thicker skin, stiffer joints, and stickier sentiments.
But in my prayer, in the weave of movements, in the scribbles of thoughts, I hope it lives on in the hearts of my fellows.
And if a gracious grant may allow me, may I dare to carry on with my remaining life, contend with closing this chapter, and dream for a life to move on.
where is the beginning and where is the end? what does it mean to be healthy & normal? when is the time to stop waiting? how is a survival different from living? who is to decide what is right and wrong? why are we not talking now?
What I want to talk about today is actually about the restrooms (that is, if I had someone to talk to in a cafe).
Wherever we go (for the most part), we go to restroom at least once a day (for those who have difficulty with this, I sympathize you). Wherever we go, the restroom look the same. White tiles, white ceramic toilets, and mirrors; these are essential components of a restroom that we can identify a restroom with. Wherever we go, the function is pretty much the same. To urinate, to defecate, and for a few outgoing individuals, something more, too (I meant brushing your teeth, you perv).
A restroom is a place where we take it for granted often times, memories of visiting the restroom fading out of memory the moment we step out of it. But sometimes, it is a place of life and death; it is an impassive guard who decides whether to allow you in to find the greatest joy or face the impending doom of soiling yourself in public.
This is a place where we find even the most socially eloquent ones lay down their snake-like facade and get stinky and smelly things out of their system. It is a place where strangers share the most intimate piece of their life with each other. This is a place where you solemnly vow to abide by the unspoken rule: do not invade other’s zone of privacy. Perhaps a world peace can be found in a UN restroom, if all world leaders had to use a same restroom.
Whatever the case, I find it a fascinating place. While living in various parts of the world during various phases of my life, restroom is a place that I remember the most vividly. I remember the lighting, the shape of the toilet, and location of the equipment in it.
Even as people surrounding me change, even as the countries that I live in change, I find that the restroom is the only place that has not changed at all. It serves me as an anchor of various mindsets that I had in my life. This is because I think about things that I was doing while going to the restroom. I was able to think more like myself because I had the freedom to not care about others. I was not afraid to show my emotions, my embarrassing thoughts, and examine them.
It seems to me that there are actually a few things that doesn’t change. Materials can change, cultures can change, and your freedom (of whatever it may be; time, physical movement, etc) can change. But the face that I will urinate and defecate (thankfully) does not change. I think that’s why it serves as a good memory anchor.
Below is one of my favorite restroom. It’s a long story to explain why, but in short, it is in Hawaii. What’s your favorite restroom?
a restroom in Hale Mānoa. Photo by author in June 2019.
Ralph with Coffee 
You must be logged in to post a comment.