I was sitting in my bus in London, watching the red lights shimmer in the heat, and I got to wondering...(mind drifts off in baking hot cab)...
All these people wandering about on a hot Sunday.
Why are they shopping, browsing, whatever, and not relaxing at home, naked with a glass of red wine? (obviously Mother slacking in his lessons).
Why are they all dressed up in T shirts and long trousers, when they could be outside naked?
Why do people regard naturists as freaks or perverts, when really all they want to do is the same thing, feel free and cool down?
Why are naturist confined to a few metres of beach or have to hide in their own gardens, behind huge ugly fences?
Why are textiles so ignorant of my needs to be fresh and free not only in body but in mind? I want the freedom of choice. I have the ability to choose and want to make it free of any undue influence.
Why is the human body, found to be so repulsive to some other humans, that it must remain covered in case it produces reactions of shock, disgust, horror, pleasure, wonder, or in my case pity?
Who decreed that we cannot bare ourselves when and where we want?
Then the traffic moved a few feet and I wiped the sweat from my brow, honked the horn at the jay-walking pedestrian, put the handbrake to off and jerked the bus, so that the drunks beer spilled in his lap. Oh well, soon be home to strip off!
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