pondering: Clean

Whenever I thirst for water, there is one little tap I have always trusted. It is no ordinary tap water that flows from this tap, no (never anything so ordinary for an esteemed subject of Suburbia). The flow of common pedestrian water is redirected and filtered through six tanks, each roughly the breadth, width, and weight of a brick. Sand as fine as flour is skimmed away (in enough quantities it colors water a transparent amber) and chemicals I have never known are eradicated like any dodo bird or tasmanian tiger you may have ever seen. Six stages of purification and cleansing produce water (tasting of nothing, if that is possible) that flows through a precisely engineered tap that every morning gets licked and sucked upon by my cat.

I tell my dad this as he pours himself a glass one day, but he only shrugs and drinks it regardless. After a moment of reflection and a brief sigh, I quickly follow.