Dear Wigleaf,

I've just had a bucket of ice water poured over my head. The birthday girl drenched me in the sauna, and she's why we're here—"I like to take baths with my friends"—so it's allowed. A thrill, really. There are signs banning "breathing contests," and one man may have been 86'd for cannonballing into the cold plunge pool. (It is, after all, three-feet deep, so in the scheme of things he got lucky.) I hold regular breathing contests with myself, in my own tub, but wouldn't dream of doing that here, in these shared waters. (Was the intimacy of underwater tea parties a result of the mutual discomfort of keeping your eyes open?) It's a few hours before the end of daylight savings time, and the banya cat watches everything from the changing room settee. How I'd love to take her home with me.

From the baths, one damp, drizzly November,
L.




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Read Liza's story.

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