Love. One that does not have to report to anyone. Just an emotion that comes out like a geyser inside and sends jets of acceptance. Love for life, for people, for men, for women, for every living creature. Love for a pulse beating within us, without social selection, image or functionality. And only here, in the bathtub, intimacy also allows self-love. One that circles our inner city square and admires us. Not others. Us.