Most people would rather not, but I indulge, every few weeks, the thought of it. Sometimes the oily smell of an evening flower appears and hangs in the air, a slightly browner spot. I think most people had it wrong when they said forget about it and find a fresh patch of gra** to lie down in. There are prayers, though, about that kind of peace. I have to admit, sometimes I want nothing more than to be lying on the bottom of an unimpressive river. I can watch all the leaves and sticks skim over my head, and no one will bother me because they're swimming in the more impressive rivers. The water's not too cold. It doesn't feel like being dead. It also doesn't feel like being old or fetal. I came to the humble water to lie down. I did what I set out to do. Now I don't have to tell you anything more about it. Share this text ...? Twitter Twitter Pinterest Pinterest