Last Sunday I was lying on the ground in the local park. The grass was slightly wet from the short rain but pleasantly warm from the scorching sun. Boris was making frantic circles with his new blue bike, immensely proud that he had just biked with me on the street, giving priority, taking priority, careful when there is a 'Stop', keeping a straight line, giving a hand sign when turning.
Little brother Andrej ,keeping a niche activity, was deftly flying on his 'Micro' scooter which recently replaced a low-quality Chinese brother.
Then I saw it. Boris was tired, red and.....thirsty. He simply went to drink water from the beautiful metal tap in the park but at this moment I realised how important this water-drinking business had been to me for many years.
Of course, we do all kinds of banal things every day and usually we do not attach a special contemplative value to them as otherwise it would be too difficult to go through the days. But this time I somehow thought of the magic of it all: what else could one do on a lazy Sunday afternoon but think of taps?
I remembered different taps from the past and how it feels to drink from them. I can remember the tap in my secondary school (5th school in Sliven) toilets and drinking litres of water there heart beating violently after hours of football in the heat.
I can remember so vividly the tap in my grandmother's yard (23, Asen Zlatarov street, Sliven) and the time when it was too big for me. I tried to reach the metal nuzzle but somehow fell in the stone basin and cracked my head. This was soon after the same head was cracked by a stone kindly thrown at me by a friend and a bit before I cracked a classmate's head with a piece of wood which I tried to throw like a boomerang.
I also remember the fountain somewhere in the middle on the road from Shiroka Laka to Solishta (Rhodope Mountain, Bulgaria), those 5 kilometers that looked endless on an August afternoon. The value of water was so high for us then.
This reminds me of the difference between price and value and how it was illustrated somewhere by an example of water in the desert: there is no price or it remains the same, value is infinite.
I am thinking now that different people surely drink in a different way like different people jump in the swimming pool differently.
The difference would come from:
- the way one keeps one's lips: a small pout or a wide-angled approach gulping larger quantities of water;
- drinking straight from the nuzzle or not: sometimes there was no time to kid around so I had to drink straight from the nuzzle. This speaks of strong thirst and kind of voracity.
- the way one puts one's palms: drinking elegantly from one of them or dipping one's mouth and nose in a basin made by both.
- naturally the angle of the neck relative to the tap is also revelatory of one's innermost sexual desires.
Naturally, entirely different skills are required when one drinks from the river or from a puddle (I haven't but one never knows).
Let us not forget of the water either. This is of course a topic for a different blog post but see how playful it is on the picture below: shooting out in a relative straight line, reaching the point where its kinetic energy turns into static and then tiredly falls down into semi-random pattern.
Boris, Alfama, Lisbon
It is obvious how different people (Boris and Andrej) drink in a different way. There is the playful, naughty, theatrical drinking of Boris, almost licking the water, ready to please.
On the other hand, there is Andrej's ferocious approach to the act. He attacks it as if he wants to drink it all or as if this water has just eaten his ice cream.
Andrej, Alfama, Lisbon
Too much love will kill you
Bairro Alto (Lisbon)
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