How My Brain Ruined Water For Me

Pureau water from a cask is the best water I’ve ever had the pleasure of having in my mouth.

Pureau Water

The essence of moisture

It’s crisp, it’s cool and most of all, it’s light and tastes like dream-streams. It’s also my most crippling addiction because every other water now tastes like disease.

The moment I dare to utter my feelings about this water, I hear a voice. It tells me that I should be grateful to be able to turn on a tap and fill a glass with clean water, while children walk miles every day with buckets on each end of a long bendy stick, just to bring home filthy brown water to cook, wash and drink from.

Declaring my love for this conveniently boxed water makes me feel like a white person who goes to a Kenyan refugee camp to film a documentary about the true horror of refugee life then books a flight home via the Qantas app on their iPhone in front of everyone.

My overactive guilt [read: emotions in general] gene manages to creep into action at least once per day, sucking the enjoyment I get out of any activity.

I just never imagined water to be an activity.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s