It’s becoming a common experience; walking on a dirt road, feeling the kicked up sand surround my feet, unintentionally cooling my every step. Trash borers the path, tiny papers and dusted plastics. Among the papers is green: green weeds, green grass. And black cows that stand amongst the trash grazing other green things I cannot see. Small, skinny children wave their thin brown arms and say “HI” or quickly “ello,” I wave and smile, feeling the strain of my cheeks and the weight on my ears of my shiny earrings. The sun beams down evening and darkening my skin. It brings us together, our skin, me and the waving girl gleam the same way under the sun We’re brown, but different browns. I’m confusing to her with my long, braided hair. She’s comfortable under the sun, while my hand can’t help but swat at flies. We’re so similar but so different.