“Skin was earth; it was soil. I could see, even on my own skin, the joined trapezoids of dust specks God had wetted and stuck with his spit the morning he made Adam from dirt. Now, all these generations later, we people could still see on our skin the inherited prints of the dust specks of Eden.” Annie Dillard
And so I am dust, always have been, always will be. I am marked with it in the same way the land is marked when it is parched and thirsty.
Thirsty as I am, I am held together by the earth, my insides dependent on that dust covering my outsides. I drink deeply to fill the cracks and crevices.
And so I am soiled and waiting to be washed clean, always have been, always will be.
Hankerings 