I found a tiny leaf floating in one of the fountains on my college campus. Even though it was smaller than an inch, it immediately caught my eye. Excitedly, I plucked it out of the thin film of grime covering the stagnant water. A small tear on its top right corner had allowed all its color to be fully washed out by the fountain water, leaving it almost completely translucent. Bleached of its color and utterly lifeless, it must’ve been a pity inducing sight to the leaves nearby still clinging tightly to their tree’s branch; nevertheless, its very state of being so far from what an ordinarily beautiful leaf looks like caught my eye. Its lack of chlorophyll gloriously displayed the perfection of the structure of its veins and its tiny tear beautifully showcased its delicateness and resilience. Still wet, bleached, and torn, I held it against the sun; it was breathtaking—magnificent.