Shit calls to me.
This soap has been calling to me.
... But this soap kept calling to me.
All last year, mine eyes ran up and down the soap aisles of my local market. They always landed on Sappo Hill's pretty cardboard boxes and perfectly cut spheres of bright ivory, purple and green. The soaps felt cold and soft in my hand. They smelled like real stuffs! Real oats! Real aloe! Real lavender.