Story from 130817

writing story

published 1970-01-01 00:00

updated 1970-01-01 00:00

%date 130817 00:00

The jagged edges of my character where eventually going to be smoothed out. Eccentricity, or color, where not particularly desirable traits. Mellow blues or flamboyant yellows weren't destined to be used, especially not together. They screamed each others names out, who was I to deny destiny? Besides, the essence of the sky couldn't be captured through regular reactions. Oh, no. You can't capture the grandeur of stars with little smudges of ink. You couldn't capture the unimpatience of clouds with a pencil. And you most certainly couldn't justify rain through strokes of paint, because there never was a color for little drops of water that seeped through your skin and seemed to weigh down on your bones, let alone one that lifted your spirits because being wet was so much more exhilarating than sitting around and sniffing it instead. Those of idle disposition never would truly comprehend the idea putting color to canvas and calling it painting.