Once I was really thirsty on a bus. We were driving through Nevada. The land outside the window was cracked from the heat. A young woman beside me with full breasts and white, flaking skin told me about her quest for self-discovery. “It’s like I’m trying to quench a deep need,” she said. She also said she was an Aquarius. I wanted water. A convenience stop was three hours away. For two hundred miles I traced sun-baked grooves in the earth with my eyes. I literally thought I might die. Silly. Have you had these moments? I’ve never been so thirsty, not before, not since. I carry a water bottle always with me now. And I’m not even an Aquarius.