Her feet and legs cast no shadow on the floor where she kneels to rinse her hair. Hair that pours down from her clutched hand, into a small bowl. These are the moments we never think about, though they happen over and over again as part of daily routine. Is she milky white or translucent? Warm and solid like a cat sleeping beside its owner, or a phantom, fading like mist in sunrise?
Incidentally, the very first post I made to this blog was in response to another of Goyo's bathing women.