“Why did someone leave garbage here, Mom? You know, that’s called glittering.”~My daughter at four years old
Could you imagine trash turned to sparkles, heaped in piles beside concrete sidewalks, how they’d catch and reflect the red and green from traffic signals? Luster would ooze down the steps in front of the library to gather at the base like a spring of radiance. Everything would shimmer and shine—plastic bags would float like iridescent bubbles in the sun. Cigarette butts would become tiny glow sticks, smog would glisten over this street like fairy dust. Empty styrofoam cups would blossom and blaze into bioluminescent flowers. Into fallen stars. In the fountain, candy wrappers would flicker diamond brilliance, become cichlids. We’d collect dazzling bottle caps from beneath benches and tree trunks, and every landfill would twinkle like fresh snowfall on Christmas morning.