Kim used to keep a book in the bathroom that was some incarnation of the Best American Essays. One of them struck a chord way down with me, and I'm not sure why, but I love this essay. Something about it makes me feel quiet, but my whole body hums with it. I think it's one of those rare writings that captures an element of life, truly and honestly, without fabrication or ruffles. It makes me want to sit on balconies and think.
It's by Charles Bowden, and it's called The Bone Garden of Desire. As far as I can tell, it's about death, sex, and food. It's several pages long, but I will happily type it out if anybody is interested in reading it (I'll have to do it in installments, though).
EDIT: just because this essay works for me doesn't necessarily mean you'll like it, of course. I'm going out on a limb with this because when I share something I really like with someone and they don't like it, I die a little, but this one I'm going to try and keep no matter what you think. Anyway, just a disclaimer.