Pink Clay Waffle Cotton Towel

If you’ve ever eaten a waffle you’ll know what I mean. Imagine your younger self pouring lashing after lashing of syrup onto a thirsty waffle only to say, where art thou glistening volumes of sweetness? Art thou verily absorbed into mine waffle? Yes! Thou art? That’s the magic of the waffle. It absorbs moisture, but by equal and opposite manner of magiks after only a few hours seeps that moisture back into the atmosphere. These towels operate by a physics that feel more supernatural than not. The little squares which sit like platforms in perfectly lined forests of sumptuous cotton are as though fields of seaweed drying in the sun. Every private and sweet shower moment, after drenching myself in mountain spring clear waters, I towel off my chiseled physique. The towels hungrily lap up the remains of liquid from my supple form. But after hours of chopping the thick and hearty bough of the hulking trees of the Mirkwood I am in need once again of the salubrious waters of the mountain. Lo and behold the towels of waffle are as dry as the dunes of the the Lostladen. Three cheers for temple and Websters magically absorbent products. A set of towelettes that would make Merlin through down his alchemy texts and turn his eye upon this new sorcery. Haza!

Really great quality