Suffocated in Sinopia
Deep inside the rainbow is joy, an uplifting and life-affirming happiness that trips along through the sky. As the hues change, the feeling is refreshed anew with each new vibrancy. The spectrum holds distinct colours, it is true, and the infinite variety between creates myriad moods of positivity.
I, however, I am stuck. The rainbow, and its cousins across the full palette are but a distant aspiration, a haunting half memory, strong enough to entice, too weak to enrich.
No, not all, it is not fair to say all. I am stuck in a certain area of this rich tapestry of colour, and it would be wholly unfair to describe the browns as any lesser than any other region. Indeed the deep, strong, mellow and gentle shades of brown are, of themselves, a remarkable place to be.
But I, I am stuck. In a single tiny spot. Again it is a delightful spot, if one were to pass through, or even to linger, but to stay? Stay put for all eternity. It is suffocating me. Its natural warmth, a boon to most, begins to pall after a long period of time. And by now I am quite, quite mad. I think. How can I know, when all I see, smell, feel, hear and taste is this one precise colour? You should try it. Help.
203, 65, 11
Today I wrote between 21:51 and 22:01. I was prompted by an idea here.
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