for W3c validation
In that moment, I looked down and instead of pavement, I saw dirt beneath our tires. Dirty, brown and uneven and we bounced along the road, the passenger car jumping and jolting at every bump. I reached out from the tricycle (they without doors anyway) and ran my hand along the ground scooping a handful. In my hands the dirt wasn’t brown anymore, instead each grain seemed to stand out more than the next in bright colors. Like small gemstones shining purples, blues, yellows and reds. Instead of the dirt being crude in my hands, it was like the very definition of what I know dirt to be disappeared from my head. I looked down and as if for the first time, it was something I could define for myself. It was smooth and soft, like freshly-washed cotton. It didn’t leave remnants on my fingertips as I brushed and swirled it softly into circles in my hand. It smelled like a fresh bouquet of flowers, the kind of wafting you get when first stepping into a blooming garden. It had weight to it, not a lot, but just enough not to let it fly out of my open palm as we drove along the Filipino countryside.
Seriously — read the whole post; you’ll be glad you did.