When I went to the bathroom…into the bathroom…this is what I wrote on paper afterwards. That’s why I can’t keep writing on paper. I have been typing too long.
So the bathroom. In this old building. A relic of when we needed a fort. Preserved in time. Wooden door with tiny hook and eye to close it. Tall wide door so fat people can go in. Old style fixtures. Room to dance in all the floor space.
I’ve been in it before…in the 40’s? 50’s? I mean it’s a room from the past, unadulterated. Gray. Stark. I think of the military men—oh, were there women? If it says women on the sign, I guess they had women. But maybe the sign was newer. So 1950. And then maybe as modern as 1960.
Then washing my hands and the soap dispenser is automatic. Turns on when it “sees” my hand. I expect a similar automatic paper towel to be dispensed, but it is not. But it works smoothly like ball bearings. Then the sign over it with a date of 1970 (not sure, but long before now). Preserved in time.