Kiss the Undertow

The water slurps my shoulders, torso, and back in a big, wet kiss, bending my image into an ironic clone of the truth. I bow to its dominance and let it break me open. The water alone will have me. Watched obsessively by her guru-like coach,a nameless swimmerbattles the element of water in a gruelling physical regimen. Outside of training,shefloats loose in waters murky, salty, and chlorinated,engaging in aimless self-destruction,restraint looming just beyond her drifting hand.Incrementally,swimming is killing her; the pool is killing her. Hovering always nearbyisa prickly vulture, waiting to feed on the swimmer's remains ? Intense and immersive,Kiss the Undertowis a psychologicallygripping account of endurance pushed to extremes.