story time
There is a goddess of dirt, of human dirt, sharing germs. She is the one who wrote that letter to the editor rhetorically asking what we did before bottled water. She loves to drink from a fountain that someone else just put their germs on. She never washes the pesticides off apples from the supermarket and is happy if someone else has touched it with their fingers too. She will pick clovers from the side of the road and pick them apart, sucking the insignificant amount of sweetness from the base of each little petal. She doesn't mind that cars drive past; she imagines their sooty particles settling upon the flower and blessing it. She is not too good to eat this tainted roadside food. With a thrill she imagines that maybe a car's tires actually ran over and crushed this very same flower.
She knows that you lick your puppy's nose and your pomeranian little dog's tongue sometimes slips into your mouth. She watches youtube videos of people letting their dogs lick from their ice cream cones, sharing them. She knows that it's not really the milky sweetness the dogs treasure; like her, they long for their human master's saliva and are happy to lick something a person has just recently licked.
When she reads a library book and it has a stain upon the page, she hopes that it came from someone's tomato soup. Hopefully, the soup had actually reached someone's mouth and was expelled forth again, maybe in laughter. Maybe this person had a moustache and there was other food caught in it already. If she went and ate at a fancy harbourside restaurant, she would order the kitchen sink item, imagining that her meal was made up of the limp peelings and filterings of sauce that were pulled up swiftly from the garburator. She would love to take out the little plastic sieve-tray from your dishwasher, and eat the whitewashed vegetables and persistant cooked pieces of noodle.
When she licks a nectarine's skin, she leaves it cleaner than can ever be imagined, that spot shining conceptually, looking just like the path made by a mop-like cleaning item through an unrealistically grimy linoleum floor. It actually sparkles, too, little specks of shininess, with a clear star-shape outline that zooms bigger and then smaller, definitely making an audible "Ping!" sound. Any mortal being lucky enough to eat this fruit will be healthy forever.
She has an incredible immune system, but it constantly requires updating, so that's why she licks dirty things as much as possible.
She knows that you lick your puppy's nose and your pomeranian little dog's tongue sometimes slips into your mouth. She watches youtube videos of people letting their dogs lick from their ice cream cones, sharing them. She knows that it's not really the milky sweetness the dogs treasure; like her, they long for their human master's saliva and are happy to lick something a person has just recently licked.
When she reads a library book and it has a stain upon the page, she hopes that it came from someone's tomato soup. Hopefully, the soup had actually reached someone's mouth and was expelled forth again, maybe in laughter. Maybe this person had a moustache and there was other food caught in it already. If she went and ate at a fancy harbourside restaurant, she would order the kitchen sink item, imagining that her meal was made up of the limp peelings and filterings of sauce that were pulled up swiftly from the garburator. She would love to take out the little plastic sieve-tray from your dishwasher, and eat the whitewashed vegetables and persistant cooked pieces of noodle.
When she licks a nectarine's skin, she leaves it cleaner than can ever be imagined, that spot shining conceptually, looking just like the path made by a mop-like cleaning item through an unrealistically grimy linoleum floor. It actually sparkles, too, little specks of shininess, with a clear star-shape outline that zooms bigger and then smaller, definitely making an audible "Ping!" sound. Any mortal being lucky enough to eat this fruit will be healthy forever.
She has an incredible immune system, but it constantly requires updating, so that's why she licks dirty things as much as possible.