A Shower is fiction not for the mind, but for the senses. Your skin takes off into a world of rain and motion and water everywhere. Your ears, overwhelmed by a wall of noise, a thousand curtains of sound crashing down into a mega-symphony. Your mind occupied just enough with the simple and repetitive task of washing to drift away. You think clearer now; Disconnected from the body the mind will move with newfound lightness through the tight corridors and around the sharp edges of problems that have given you headaches just a few hours prior.

The washing process itself is a timer; When the water stops, and you take your first steps out of the shower you will find your senses rejuvenated from the mystical trip and your mind still electrified and flowing with ideas. The cold rush - much like stepping out of the cozy cinema onto a busy street - rinses away the last shreds of your lucid dream. A momentary awakening, a sensation that leaves you inspired, creatively moved, and yet unmistakably grounded and connected to the material world. A lot can be said about the similarities of cinemas and showers: How they take away some of your senses to sharpen others; How they force you out at a set point in time; How they use their limited realms with great design to create fiction.