If everyday life
and everyday people and the everyday world
had a color, it would be grey
traffic jams-cramps-laundry-balance checkbook-dog-carpool-vet trips-
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Everything runs together in one dull blur, moving so fast all color is lost and only grey results. No black, no white, no color, just grey. Grey like fog like clouds like dusk like cities like concrete like everything...
Life gets so wrapped up in itself, in its mundaneness, most people forget there were such things as color, and light. Most people are so full of their own normalcy there is room for nothing else.
It's the "cracked" ones, the ones society says is 'broken' and 'wrong' and 'mistakes' and everything else unnatural and unfamiliar, it's oftentimes the "crazy" ones, the weird the bizarre the fringes... it's they who remember what color is.
The hippie mom who still wears gypsy skirts and bandanas to pick up carpool. The businessman who reads comics on the subway during his commute to work. The crazy aunt who the parents hate but the children adore because her house is magical somehow, childready and free. The man who keeps company only with his hawks because they are noble and true and do not betray him as his "fellow" humans do. The librarian who still secretly splashes in rain puddles when no one is looking.
The ones who are in some way free. The ones who are still childlike in awe in their heats. The ones who remember there is something other to life than the grey grind of concrete, day after day. They hae a crack in that grey exterior, somewhere, and let colors shine through them... colors of life...
Rose glasses... the blue of the ocean... the green of the grass...
the oranges and pinks of the sunset... the yellow of a field of dasies... the briliant red of a cardinal.
They remember this color, and they in their lives reflect it, through their "broken" pieces. And all colors together... all colors blended together... give pure white light. It is these that join together and let light into the world.