— THE WATER MONOLOGUES —
Passage I.
A confession of water adultery — on the estranged marriage between need and disappointment.
Drinking water is like drinking tasteless perfection. Not always an ideal choice, which is why I often cheat on water with its evil twin, Sprite. I'm only human.
Yes, I understand water is known for evoking every electrical notion to sustain life here on earth; but I do often wonder, what if it had a dash of sugar and an artificial lemon-lime after-taste…would the world be a healthier or even happier place? Maybe that's just me. Considering my water adultery stems from moments of disappointment in my life.
You see, Water and I are in this weird estranged marriage. We need and understand each other, but we're not always on the same page. I sometimes don't know who water is. There are times it loves me, and times it loves me not.
One thing's for sure; I cheat because Sprite fills the void of my misinterpreted hopes and dreams. When there is a gap in our communication, a cold brisk Sprite is there to listen and warm my heavy heart, igniting feelings of hope and unfulfilled pleasures. Sprite is my delusion, while water is the brink of my realities.
— Coco Gilbert WATER MONOLOGUES
— THE WATER MONOLOGUES —
Passage II.
An essay on transformation, permission, and the shape of water.
When we dare to create, we give ourselves permission to believe that reality is malleable, that imagination can take on any form and shape. This is an open invitation to witness how creativity flows through everyday life, how it liberates us from the structures we
thought were fixed, and how it brings us back to a simple truth: we are only as confined as we allow ourselves to be. They say water is life.
Fluid, boundless, and ever-changing. It's the universal element that can flow, freeze, or surge with untamed force, shifting from one state to another without losing its essence. Like water, life is about transformation, embracing what we can't always see, and letting go of the structures that no longer serve us.
We, as in humanity, all actually have super powers. You just have to learn how to use them. Most people unfortunately don't appreciate the small gestures of the universe because they don't know what container to pour their life into. That is what holds the key to your superpower. The beautiful thing about water (you) is that it takes the shape of its environment. So I ask you to consider this: if you could pour your life into a cup, what shape would it take? And if you could be any form of water, how would you flow?
What would it reflect back to you? For we are all capable of transformation, of embracing the endless depths within. Drinking water and minding our business seems like the simplest way to get through life, huh? For me it's a swig of Sprite too — but that's neither here nor there.
— Coco Gilbert WATER MONOLOGUES
— THE WATER MONOLOGUES —
Passage III.
A parable of two flowers, two women, and the kinds of beauty that endure.
There was once two pink flowers. One being a pink hibiscus and the other a pink rose. Both radiant in their own right, both also embody two distinct kinds of beauty, much like two women whose lives and tastes set them apart.
The hibiscus blooms boldly, its petals wide and open, as if eager to bask in the sunlight. It is vibrant, unpretentious, and fleeting; here today, gone tomorrow. Its charm lies in its simplicity, a beauty that asks for little and gives just enough. The hibiscus is a reflection of the woman whose tastes are unrefined but earnest, who values comfort over elegance and the easy joys of life over grand ambitions. She is approachable, warm, and uncomplicated, but her beauty is transient, fading quickly when the setting shifts.
The pink rose, on the other hand, is a study in cultivated grace. Its petals spiral inward with meticulous precision, as though guarding secrets that only the deserving may discover. The rose is timeless, its beauty deliberate, demanding unwarranted attention and care. It symbolizes the woman with high taste; reserved, discerning, and effortlessly poised. She does not bloom for everyone; her appeal lies in her rarity, her layers of refinement. She is the embodiment of sophistication, her presence lingering long after she has left the room, much like the scent of the rose that clings to the air.
Both the hibiscus and the rose are beautiful, but one blooms for the moment while the other endures, becoming part of the story. And so it is with these two women: one lives in the simplicity of today, while the other crafts a legacy for tomorrow. With that being said, choose your flowers wisely, young lads. You never know how much you love a person until it's time to sacrifice your ego — and let the consequence of vulnerability align your future.
— Coco Gilbert WATER MONOLOGUES
— THE WATER MONOLOGUES —
Passage IV.
A note on parenthood — when the storm becomes a water park.
Somewhere along the way, my forecast did change. At first it felt like a storm; loud, messy, unpredictable. Toys everywhere. Running through the house. Missions, music, counting, drumming, dancing, questions, honesty that arrives without warning. The kind of calamity that makes you wonder how one little
person can create so much movement in a single day. But then something shifts. You stop trying to calm the storm. You start playing in it.
And suddenly the hurricane doesn't feel like destruction anymore — it feels like a giant water park full of splashing, laughter, and wild rides at Hurricane Harbor.
For parents, the real thrill of a water park isn't in the slides or the waves; it's in watching their little one light up with each new experience. It's in the small victories, the endless giggles, and the way a toddler's joy is so pure it's contagious.
By the end of the day, they're waterlogged, exhausted, and probably sticky with syrup from waffle binging, but they're also full of stories and memories — proof that the thrills of life's water park are more than just fun. They're the building blocks of courage, laughter, and love.
— Coco Gilbert WATER MONOLOGUES