Colors

Sometimes I wish I was an artist. I love colors.

It's two in the morning and I just randomly changed all of the colors on my blog. Who cares if they match or not? I like them. And it's two in the morning. Who really cares at 2 in the morning?

Graffiti? Beautiful. Would I decorate my entire house with it? Probably not. But fascinatingly beautiful at the same time.

When I was little, I used to say my favorite color was rainbow. I would arrange things systematically based on their place in the rainbow color scheme, and when I drew Santa in the second grade, I got disqualified for drawing soot on his coat, presents underneath a newly scribbled tree, and a matching set of hat and mittens in my favorite hue... rainbow.

Ever dream in black and white? It's a miserable experience. Scary, too. Colors are what make life beautiful. Colors make us alive.

Skin, crayons, leaves, books, clothes.... all different colors. Variety is the spice of life, after all.

Spices make stuff more interesting. But not as interesting as color.

And I think that my favorite color is still rainbow.