This first poetry collection wrings towels, releasing their jaws to old truths, new truths, faceless truths, the ones that disgust themselves, the ones forgotten, and the truths that are still true. Towels from yesterday. Towels hanging from windows. Pink towels with animals. Brown towels with verses. Small towels. Big towels. The towels you imagine. Towels stranded behind the washing machine. Some in cabinets. Others almost reaching the ceiling, still dripping from your father’s sweat. Yours forgetting. Clean towels. Dirty towels. The towels thinned to rags. The ones that might still matter. Drip drip drip.