Red Dust – Sticky Fingers

Sticky, gross, covered in dust and altogether too close to your face for comfort… a description that might easily be used for a number of things that day, but in this exact moment it was the tiny, little dark fingers making their way through my hair.

The fingers belong to a little boy, aged 3 or 4, just knee high to a grasshopper and conveniently the perfect height to reach my face as I sat cross legged on the dusty red ground. Continue reading