A world citizen may provide value to society by using knowledge acquired across cultural contexts.
The path winds its way left and right, undulating up and down again over hard pack dirt, rocks, rotting trees and living roots. The way stretches out and disappears behind a tree. The dense forest surrounds. Trees shoot up to the sky as far as the eye can see in every direction. The sounds are few. Birds make their presence known by sporadic chirps, calls, rings and tones. The only other sound is the slow gurgling of the stream running across the path. The air is heavy with moisture from the perpetually starting and stopping drizzle. Yet there doesn’t seem to be humidity. The air isn’t scented either; the rain has seen to it that the smells of eucalyptus oil are wiped from the breeze. The lack of sensory information starts to feel weird. With no taste or smell and hardly sound, all that’s left is to feel the world and see it. There isn’t much to feel since I’ve wrapped myself up against the drizzle and chill in exactly the right amounts. All that remains is the visual and it comes streaming at me vividly. The world is all greens and browns. The leaves of the pine are a deep green. The eucalypt an ashy one. The fuzzy mosses growing thick on the trunks of the trees are vibrant emerald. The leafy mosses are a more static Crayola green. The lichen strands growing from the mold are so pale a green as to be almost white. Tree trunks showing through are saturated brown. Fallen comrades, a rotting reddish earthy brown. And the nuances of color change are stark. The sun makes a brief visit from behind the clouds. Green mosses start to glow, beads of water catching and retelling the sun. The world is a visual feast here at a nondescript part of the trail on an inconsequential day on the Overland Track.