The Dust of Morning
The smell of damp earth after a light rain always brings back the grit of chalk against my fingertips. It is a dry, powdery sensation that settles into the creases of the skin, a reminder of lessons learned in rooms where the windows were always left wide open to the heat. I remember the sound of bare feet slapping against sun-baked clay, a rhythmic, hollow thud that felt like a heartbeat against the ground. There is a specific heaviness to a school bag—the strap biting into the shoulder, the uneven weight of books shifting with every stride. It is the weight of expectation, yet it feels light when the air is thick with the promise of the day ahead. We carry our futures in these small, clumsy bundles, moving forward before we even understand the direction. Does the earth still hold the imprint of our earliest steps, or have we walked too far to ever feel that ground beneath us again?
Mamunur Rashid has captured this feeling in his beautiful image titled Going to School. It reminds me of the simple, dusty rhythm of a journey that never truly ends. Can you still feel the weight of your own first steps?
