“Row, row, row your boat… ” Oh, yes, we rowed, my brother and me. Down the stream and onto the great wide ocean, where maelstroms opened up on every side; outside, inside. Having added half a bottle of cheap pink syrup to the tempered water, we then proceeded to sink our boat with fluffy foam, strawberry scented. We whirled our hands like turboprops, singing loudly through the tempest. Then the flight stopped, as we admired a job well done and the changing landscape. The arctic. Dividing the foam into two pillows we let our bodies sink down into soft armchairs and shrieked as the skin on our back touched the freezing enamel. We lengthened our legs, slowly, the rippling of the surface hidden by mist. Our feet touched knees, invaded a centimeter of the thigh, then another, into foreign territory, forbidden territory. We attacked. We made white pirate hats and bunny ears, and launched cannonballs that stopped midair, falling down like white doves. Ammunition dwindled, though we kicked some more. But I could hold my breath under water. For a very long time. Show time. I turned around, sat on my knees, threw back my head to fill my lungs and plunged like a giant white whale. Captain Ahab awoke, grabbed his harpoon. Spotting a crust on my lower back he quickly approached to inspect. First a trying poke, a test. Then, with his sharp fingernail, he expertly separated crust from skin, drawing a drop of blood, bringing the beast roaring out of the abyss. I howled, splashed, bellowed with fury and wounded pride, scaring Ahab into my little brother, into his corner, his back touching the dripping tap. No words coming to his rescue, he launched a final deadly attack, as a spurt of liquid heated our rapidly cooling bathwater.