I grew up in a

I grew up in a small Massachusetts town. This town had a clear river that flowed under a paper mill. The mill used to dump dyes into the river. The river coursed by my elementary school; every day it was a different color. Some days the river would be bright green, other days it would be bright yellow, and sometimes it would be magenta. I never knew what color it would be. I liked not knowing. I would stand on the bridge and throw rocks into the water and watch the multicolored scum explode to the surface. It was horrible and it was beautiful.