My first memory

I was waiting for Myo to get a tire alignment in Seattle, WA, and I happened upon a very activist-y library and meeting point. There were a bunch of activities going on, and among them, an open workshop for people to talk and discuss about individualist-y and activist-y stuff. I joined them mid-meeting, and I was given a sheet of paper with a few exercises on them. They are the following:

1. write a religious text/series of verse, ten lines to 2 pages. it is your religion, and your verses, the only thing that it shares with what you know of religion is form, the content and the worship of the blasphemy is up to you. assign a significance to particular weather or declare and explain your holy days. no longer than a page.
2. write a manifesto ten line-2 pages that speaks in the language of plants, their scent, color, and cultural associations.
3. write ten sentences that say only things that are true.
4. write ten lines using the most simple sensory language possible about your first memory.
5. write ten lines-2 pages about what liberation tastes like to you.
6. write ten lines-2 pages about how your mother's touch differed from your last lover.

I had little time left, but I decided to take a shot at #4. This was the result:

I was carried into a shower area surrounded with light blue tiles. The tiles felt cold to the touch, but not as cold as the water that soon began hitting me all over my body. Startled, I wanted to get away from the water, bu the shower walls were higher than my own body, and large arms wet all my skin further. I yelled and cried in protest, but I was only pitied, and the water fall and the scrubbing of wet skin and ragged material on my own skin continued all the same.

Then I began #3, but only managed to write two sentences:

• Perception inherits existence.
• Consciousness inherits choice.