Common App Essay for CSM Anonymous

Nestled in the verdant outskirts of the humble town of Tinjaca, my great-grandmother's farm rests in the rolling Colombian hills -- a rustic tribute to the agrarian culture of my forefathers. Upon entering the little hacienda under the original log veranda, one catches a brief glimpse at the quiet beauty of a life filled with simplicity. With a packed dirt floor below, white clay walls, and simple wooden furniture sparsely but purposefully distributed on the patio, the hacienda offers nothing materialistic, nothing that detracts from the exquisite wilderness that flourishes a couple of steps away. The tropical sun above gently moves the shadows cast by the few clouds; these shadows saunter over the elongated reeds of grass that a cow's pink tongue is relishing and cast into relief the seemingly endless expanse of viridescent land, dotted here and there with the vibrant colors of tropical flowers and foliage. In the background, an outdated radio plays the romantic vallenatos that my great-grandparents danced to many decades ago on this same dirt floor. A scent wafts from the kitchen on a slight breeze. My grandmother is making buñuelos -- a traditional Colombian pastry.

It is here, surrounded by the richness of the Colombian...