The cotton field

I remember screaming: ”It’s not worth it! Don’t follow me! This is so not worth it..” We took some pictures, a few where I smiled (completely fake but only because I wanted a happy picture) but most of them shows my disgust.

A little over 30 000 people live here. Marana is a small town, very spread out, but small. It’s covered with fields. Cotton fields. Wherever you go you pass the cotton fields. For some reason they fascinate me. Since the day we came I’ve been obsessed with them and everytime we have passed one (which is like every 15 seconds whenever you drive somewhere) I’ve been acting like a baby, wanting us to stop the car so I could run out in the field and make someone take a picture of it. My only concrete goal during this PR time has been to have picture taken in one of the cotton fields of Marana.

So yesterday, as every day, we passed a few cotton fields on our way to the office and Chelsey asks: ”Annicka, you wanna go in the cotton field?”. Heck yeah! We pulled off the road and got out.

I am naive. Naive enough to believe that the surface of a cotton field is nicely to walk on. Maybe it’s soft grass? No, I’m not that stupid, but I was expecting dirt. Regular dirt that you grow stuff in. The kind of dirt my mom uses in our green house. Black dirt. Awfully dirty, but dry. Believe me, I was wrong. By the time I’ve climbed over the little dirt hill that separated me from the field I paniced. I stick my feet – with my favorite turquoise sandals on – down in thick mud. My feet starts to sink down and it’s already too late to prevent it.

I remember screaming: ”It’s not worth it! Don’t follow me! This is so not worth it..” We took some pictures, a few where I smiled (completely fake but only because I wanted a happy picture) but most of them shows my disgust.








Maybe it was worth it, cause now I have a story about those cotton fields, but my shoes got so messed up I spent 20 minutes in the restroom of the Marana town Office to wash them (and then another 20 minutes in the bath tub at home). I even washed my feet in the sink of that restroom, super scared someone was gonna walk in the door and wonder what the heck I was up to.

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