I would rather be dirty.

I want to be touched, not untouchable;

I want to be moved, not unmoving;

To be marred, soiled, and aged by life and celebrate each blemish;

Each marks a story of being human(e) and being alive.

When did we start calling soil "dirt", like a contaminated word, and forget the joy of being dirty?

I wonder how society would be different if we have models who are imperfect, if we celebrate maturity and depth instead of unblemished sweethearts and sterilized vessels.