I was driving from Miami on US-1 to Key West. There are several spans of smaller bridges that run parallel to US-1. One of those bridges has the most amazing TREE growing right on it.
There in the middle of all that asphalt and concrete is a beautiful tree -- just growing out over all that water. I've never seen anything like it before. It was so alone and out of place, yet so healthy and present.
I was born a poor black girl in the deep south in the early 1940s. My father was a cotton farmer and my mother was a maid. No, no wait -- that's the beginning to The Color Purple. My bad.
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