In the bath

Too Tall and the Cripple are sitting in the bath. Too Tall's talking about our culture's drive towards expansion, the will to power clothed in physico-mental spatiality and theres beeswax solid dripping down into the tub from hollow brass holders.
The bath's small and there's wood panelling glowing in the last of day's light but mostly just flesh pressed together, sunburnt, goosebumped, wet, dry, lucky.
She's wondering how there can be such a drive towards movement and expansion when things can be so still so good. The trixy insatiable will, driving, driving always past its destination, onwards.
The Cripple's wondering again if realization of the hollowness of our expansion might lead to a stepping back, a falling back on the fullness of experience...trough the window theres leaves blowing in the sun. Some lady's talking about beaches and freshness over violins in the other room.