That being said, this group of humans now before my eyes have placed their requisite undershorts, haori, and hakama on the shelves, unreservedly breaking taboo to expose themselves to all the world. They display no angst. On the contrary, they're chatting loquaciously to their hearts' content. Thus I described this earlier as the greatest of marvels. It's my humble honor now to detail the scene for the benefit of my good and cultured readers.
There's so much going on that it's hard to know where to begin. The world of brutes is unstructured chaos, defying any attempt at orderly testimony. I'll start by describing the tub. I'm not sure it even qualifies as a tub, but for now let's let that pass. It's one meter in width by three meters in length, partitioned into two sections, and one of the two sections is milky white. This, as I understand it, is the medicated bath, and it's dissolved quicklime that gives it its cloudy hue. Not only is it cloudy, but its surface is dense and oily. It looks almost rancid, which is no surprise, as I'm told the water is only changed weekly. The other half of the tub is standard bath water, though one would be hard pressed to call it clear or pure. Imagine a rain barrel with standing water, stirred after some time, and you'll grasp its color well enough. Some words now on the brutes. In the rainwater side, standing upright, are two young men. They stand face to face, dousing their bellies with warm water. They're having a ball. Their skin, through exposure to the sun, is darkened to a tee. Both brutes look fit as a fiddle, till one pats his chest with his hand towel and appeals to his companion. "Kin-san, this area aches. What d'you suppose it could be?" "That's your stomach. If your stomach goes you're done for. You'd better take care." Kin-san adds his earnest admonishment. "It's this left side here." The young man pats his left lung. "That's your stomach. The stomach is on the left, and the lungs are on the right." "Is that right? I thought the stomach was round here." This time he pats his midsection. "Pain down there's abdominal inflammation," Kin-san replies. At this point a fellow of twenty five or so, sporting a thin mustache, plunges into the bath. As he does so, the soap and grime off his body float to the surface. It sparkles in response, like iron-tinged water exposed to the sun. Next to this newcomer is the bald head of an older man who's locked another fellow, a man with close-cropped hair, in conversation. Only their heads protrude above the water.