This morning, I stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel to dry off. As I raised the towel to my face, I caught a whiff of a long-ago towel and was transported.


You see, back in the commune days, we only had a very few towels for all of us. Somehow, procuring towels never seened too important to us as we fought the system by promoting an alternative system of values and living.


So there was usually only one bath towel at hand in the shared bathroom, usually damp and gray, and always extremely aromatic. Each of us had our own unique scents, just like cats or something. Rumble Al left the smell of the garage, axle grease and oil, on the towel, while Melody deposited a vague odor of baby powder, which was as close as any one of us ever wanted to get to an infant.